The Game of Truths and Lies
I am not easily deceived. You would not last five minutes in this industry if you were. Regardless of your cunning, if they detect even a hint of spring grass at your feet, they will attempt to deceive you. This year, I had identical twins in my class. They are the most undesirable. They are not the kind of twins who endeavor to establish their separate identities. These two use their identical qualifications similarly to the Weasleys, assuming the Weasleys were black, female, and non-magical. Philanthropy and Happiness.
Anyway. Usually they place twins in separate classrooms, I have no clue why I ended up with both of them, but I dealt with it by placing them as far away as I could without triggering some sort of in-classroom turf battle. Some of these children develop an irrational attachment to their assigned seat. So Tuesday last week, I’m writing the names of Henry the eighth’s wives on the board, and I KNOW Charity likes this stuff, so when I get half way through Catherine Howard, I cry out “Charity, the survivor, please?” I like to provide everyone with an opportunity to excel. Anyway, to keep a long tale short, everyone begins to titter, so I turn around and approach Charity directly. “Charity, I think you know this one!” and the tittering becomes worse! Charity simply sits there, glaring at me insolently, and finally, just as I am trying to marshal myself for a telling off, which I don’t enjoy giving, the response cuts through the tittering from the opposite end of the room.
A fleeting second of uncertainty and they believe I’m an idiot now. Oh, I laughed along with it, ha ha, very funny, you changed positions, but actually it’s about as amusing as a knock knock joke. But now they thing I’m weak, don’t they? Easily beguiled. Gullible. I attempted to put them straight with a round of “two truths and a lie” on Wednesday fifth period, and no one pulled the wool over my eyes there, not even once, but obviously not everyone was persuaded, which is probably why Solomon believed he could get away with it.
“Solomon, where’s your homework?” I said. To be fair to the child, he typically turns SOMETHING in, albeit quality fluctuates.
“My dog ate it” he said. I could not believe what I was hearing. I simply gazed at him, waiting for him to shatter.
My dog ate it. To save my Gran’s life.” The class was quiet. I don’t generally go too bananas for the theatrics, but I could have won an Oscar for the way I pulled up a chair and waited for more, but all I got for my efforts was “She was going to choke.”
“Solomon, please” (I attempted to assume my most polite manner here) “start at the beginning. Let’s all hear how the dog came to save your Gran’s life by eating your homework.”
He seemed a little uncomfortable, to be honest, but you pull a trick like this with me then you are going to feel uncomfortable. Clearly he didn’t know where to start, so I provided him an in. “you left school on Tuesday afternoon…”
“Yeah. I, I left school on Tuesday afternoon and as I got out the gate, this, this, this, MAN came round the corner.”
“Go on” I pushed him. The class was as silent as I have ever hear them.
Yeah, this man, and he was blue. Like, his entire face and everything was blue, except his lips, which were kind of lip colored. But not just blue, it was like he had patterns all over him, drawings, and phrases, and some portions that were simply blue, but I didn’t have time to stop and look, because he began to follow me.”
