Lesson 26: Keep your spectacles with you at all times

The instrument of choice at Whaley Bridge Primary School was the Descant Recorder. It made a high-pitched shriek and could be quite piercing, especially when young novices pick up the instrument for the first time. However, with coaching, and a little bit of patience and effort, it was possible to make the entire ensemble of children sound quite lovely. In the late 1970’s I was teaching the entire school to play while cajoling them along on my piano.

Now remember when I told you that teachers must be storytellers? By my late 40s, I had started wearing spectacles, that I hung on a thin necklace around my neck so that I wouldn’t lose them. They were quite unexceptional in of themselves but seemed to be a catalyst for children to question my age.

“Why I’m ninety-three,” I would tell a group of gaping six-year-olds, who looked at me barely able to comprehend or believe that the person sitting in front of them could be quite as ancient. On one such occasion, a boy named Simon looked skeptical as though figuring out a riddle.

“My brother suspects you must wear Oil of Ulay,” he said to both me and the whole class.

“Why does he say that?” I replied, barely able to contain a giggle.

“Because you look younger than our Gran,” he replied.

“And she is seventy-five!”

My ruse was up.

The spectacles were also used as a prop for my other favourite story.

So it went, that in our classroom lived a small fairy that wore a yellow dress with pink spots. She lived on the shelf and would be most helpful when the children had left for the day, tidying up their messes.

“She cleans most wonderfully, and she loves every single one of you,” I would say, looking out over my spectacles from the chair.

“But how come we can’t see her?” said a child who I had lovingly named, Crystal Tips.

“Ah,” I replied, tapping my spectacles again. “Remember Crystal, you can only see her with these. She really is, most shy.”

Crystal was wowed. I would often catch her squinting up at the shelf in the hope of catching a glimpse of the elusive helper. She never forgot, until one day it was me who forgot. When heading to lunch duty, I had left my spectacles on my desk. Upon returning to the classroom, five-year-old Crystal was wearing them, and had completed her search of every last nook and cranny of the classroom.

“Mrs. Harling,” she said with a look of deep concern. “I have looked everywhere and am quite certain that the fairy is not here.” 

“Are you sure?” I countered.

“Quite sure,” she replied.

And that was that…my second ruse was up.

It was clearly time for a marvelous new story.

Lesson 27: Each morning, the world is brand new, Friday, August 25th.