We are your parents!

Act one:
A girl is sitting on the second bench, this is at least the seventieth hour of her sitting idle like this, gradually tilting, stretching, yawning and then getting up again. She starts scribbling on the last page of her book because she has made a pact with her teacher to shut up and not show off her cadavre exquis* which is an act of automatism, spontaneous(*her level of the subject rotting away,decadent and mossy). The teacher comes and snatches away the personal journal. Yet another fight, another act of defiance against a teacher with 27 years of spotless track record ( of handling students and convincing them that they can never learn). This time it is too much girl. Go, go and try and stay away from my class. The girl shouts," That is what I try and do but I need attendance."

Act two: (no popcorn)
Another day at class. Teacher comes, she also comes. Go, go shameless girl to the dean (who, btw is my husband, snigger). The dean seems sympathetic only, inquires on family background, thinking scum-ness runs in family. He says he is acting parent blah. Girl thinks man understands and tells him how it has been hundred hours of sitting idle and she could do with some poetry. He loses it. He says she has "irritated" a teacher (his wife!) and is a slur to a well formed, structured, long running legacy of teaching which is a thankless profession( read as: I don't even understand why you want to read more than needed, these new age women. What shit queer studies you mumble? That won't make you dean of divine college! Will that get you a husband, or will you walk out on him also if things go awry?) She realises it is time for last trick, lower eyes, bend head and chant " Sorry sir, won't happen again, i assure obedience sir..." Again, she slips by, nonetheless humiliated and threatened suspension. The girls' loo is right next, she goes in a sheds two tears and wonders what was so revolting about writing " Car vois tu chaque jour, je t'aime davantage, aujourd'hui plus qu'hier et bien moins que demain"
So, she just drags feet and walks home, waiting for one more more year to pass by.