Teaching Tania

(Love is all you need???)

by

James Gault

Copyright 2008 James Gault

Smashwords edition

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Chapter 1 Discursive Essays

Dear Tania,

Let me congratulate on your excellent first attempt at a discursive essay. I am pleased to note that you seem to have recovered from your experiences with the Mafia and your homework was up to your customary standard. Your spelling and grammar were, as usual, impeccable but I was also impressed by the well thought out structure, the excellent use of paragraphs, the logical flow of your argument and the persuasive ending. It seems a little mean of me to say this, and I do apologise, but I have one tiny criticism that I feel I must make. It’s always much better in this sort of thing if your ideas are, well, your own. For example, in your homework I counted five ‘according to Honza’s, four ‘in Honza’s opinion’s and one ‘in the words of the great Honza’.

Yes, I did tell you that the judicious use of quotations and citations lends a bit of gravity and credibility to essays of this nature. But I thought you would have realised that such quotations should come from those enjoying a modicum of respect in the literary or academic world. In particular, I should counsel you that the appellation ‘in the words of the great’ can only safely be used in the context of a quote from our famous Mr. Shakespeare, whose talent is recognised throughout the whole world. It is dangerous, for example, to use such terms even when speaking of the works of the American poet Mr. T.S. Eliot, whom you may remember I have already mentioned in our correspondence. In spite of his eminently sensible defection from the land of his birth, there are still some English teachers or exam markers who do not consider him among the greats, and who regard him with scorn, satisfying no doubt some deeply hidden and latent xenophobic sentiments. And for exactly the same reasons I must warn you to show some restraint when making quotes from your own admirable Messrs Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Checkov and Pushkin.

The ‘Honza-isation’ of your homework raises another concern. Is it your intention that the said ‘Honza’ will replace cats as an object of your affections? If so, I fear your mother will be less than pleased, especially if you’re thinking of bringing him home as a pet. There’s nothing more off-putting than falling over a wicker basket full of Honza every time you’re making a cup of tea in the kitchen. And your Mum will worry about you suffering from ‘puppy love’. Such first loves are normally of short duration so no doubt Honza will soon suffer the same fate as a discarded Christmas pet, and you will be on the manhunt again. When this happens, I think you should give some thought to your Mum’s feelings before plunging into an unwise choice.

There are three basic strategies a daughter can employ when choosing a new partner.

You can deliberately choose someone of whom you are sure your mother will approve. This might be marvellous for your relationship with your Mum, but could be potentially disastrous for your relationship with the chosen partner. And it is not so easy to go down this route as you would think. You think you really know your mother quite well but do you know what kind of boyfriend would really please her? Such knowledge requires a very careful investigation of her tastes and desires. Don’t, for example, think that if you choose someone exactly like your father that this will do the trick! Your Mum, like all married women of a certain age, will have by now discovered every little inadequacy of her spouse, she will be kicking herself for not having made a better choice, and is almost certainly grimly determined that her daughter will do better than she did.

You could of course take the iconoclastic path and choose someone your mother will absolutely hate. This is the fashionable choice, usually associated with the nose-ring, multi-coloured hair and gratuitous mutilation of the body, and to be honest it doesn’t seem like your style at all. There is another problem anyway. Many Mums are, deep down, really quite sensible and the chances are that if you find a boy that your Mum will hate, you will probably start to hate him yourself after five minutes.

The other option is to pick someone who suits your fancy and to hell with what your Mum thinks. This sounds easy but it too is more difficult than you think. It’s all very well to abandon all parental influences but if you don’t have your Mum for a role model, who will you turn to? Your probably thinking of some teenager’s or women’s magazine, but you would be in danger of abandoning your inner soul to a faceless organization whose sole interest is commercial exploitation. I’m not saying mothers are totally devoid of self-interest in relation to their children, but you can rely on at least a certain level of affection. In my experience, women journalists would kill their granny for a cup of tea, although, I admit I might be stereotyping here.

But all these difficult choices are for the future. For the present, I assume you have taken up with Honza for the simple reason that you LIKE him, and this is a perfectly good reason for a schoolgirl infatuation. Personally, I have only two concerns.

Firstly, I wouldn’t like this latest adventure to interfere with your considerable progress in the English language, and I want you to absolutely promise me that you will devote at least fifty percent of your time together speaking English. That way your skills will at least be maintained and Honza’s will certainly improve.

But I’m also a bit concerned about your Mum’s health, or, more precisely, for her continuing state of relative sanity, so could you please, for once, follow my advice carefully? First of all, refrain from mentioning Honza by name. If you really must narrate his exploits at the dinner table, refer to him as some boy in my class who sits near me – but not too near – certainly not within touching distance. And, finally, whatever you do, don’t ever, in any circumstances, let your Mum catch you talking to him,

So always keep a good lookout,

Your teacher,

J.

Chapter 2. Panic Stations!!

You have 1 SMS messages.

You have 1 SMS messages unread.

Tania, check your e-mails. Urgent. J.

To : taniam@hotmail.com

From : jteach@english.prague.cz

Subject : VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Tania (the ‘dear’ is inappropriate in the current circumstances),

Why do you never do what I tell you? I have just had your Mum on the phone and I can safely say she is not pleased, I could even go as far as calling her angry, and, to be honest, I could mention the word ‘furious’ without fear of being accused of exaggeration. It appears that she SAW you with YOU KNOW WHO and you were holding hands again. This was bad enough, but what apparently brought on the dizzy turn and the fits of trembling was the dream-like gazing into each other’s eyes. How could you be so stupid? Everyone knows love is blind but could you perhaps arrange for your version to be blind in only one eye, leaving the other free to keep a look-out for distraught mums hiding behind lampposts and spying on their amorous offspring.

I was a bit unfortunate to get her phone call. First of all, she tried to call your Dad but he was in a meeting so naturally she decided to pick on me instead.

She started off by telling me that in her opinion it was totally inappropriate for eleven-year-olds to harbour romantic notions. I pointed out that you were both very precocious children, that Honza was already twelve, and that you would be twelve yourself in couple of weeks. This didn’t appease her at all. So I suggested she was probably over reacting, and that what she saw was probably no more than an innocent discussion about homework, but she wanted to know why you would need to hold hands to discuss homework. I muttered something about an experiment in the chemistry of human body contact but for some reason this idea just seemed to get her even more upset. Then she demanded an explanation of the puppy dog looks you were giving each other. By this time she was screaming and crying, and I have to admit that I was under lot of pressure so maybe my answers lacked their usual panache and credibility. My suggestion that you were perhaps reading each other’s thoughts only brought the rather cynical comment that she could well imagine what these thoughts were.

In an attempt to take the heat out of the conversation, I said I was glad she had chosen to phone me, as your Dad had already received more than his fair share of pain as a result of her anger. This didn’t go down too well either, for she screamed something like “Don’t you worry about him! I know whose fault all of this is. You don’t imagine Tania got these bad genes from my side of the family. He’s for it when he gets home from work, I promise you!” and she hung up. So I immediately phoned your Dad and told him to find some work to keep him very late in the office, and not to go home until he was absolutely certain that his wife was safely in bed, sound asleep and unarmed.

The reason for this e-mail is to warn you to be prepared when your Mum gets home. You are in deep trouble, so deep that you will need more than a ruse to get out of it, and if I were you I wouldn’t be embarrassed about resorting to a blatant lie.

You probably won’t get away with invoking her unstable psychological condition and claiming she imagined the whole thing. If you want to save your skin you’ll need to be a bit more inventive than that.

You could begin by admitting that she did see you with one of your classmates of the male species, but he was there in the role of your bodyguard. Your teacher, having been to the cinema last night for yet another screening of ‘The Godfather’, was suddenly afraid that you could still be in danger from the Mafia and had asked one of the boys in your class – chosen at random and not one you particularly liked, by the way – to escort you home safely.

Or perhaps you could say that it wasn’t Honza she saw you with, and it wasn’t even a boy. You had been having a dress rehearsal in the drama class and one of the girls who has a cross-gender role in the next pantomime had decided to go home still wearing her make-up and costume. You just have to hope your mother doesn’t get even more upset because you were holding hands with a girl.

Or, instead of saying it wasn’t Honza, why don’t you say it wasn’t you? There is a certain clique in your class who is still annoyed at you because their mothers are now so friendly with the teacher that they can get away with nothing these days. So, to get their revenge, one of them disguised herself as you and then deliberately arranged things so that your Mum would see her in the company of one of the boys, being all lovey-dovey. Frankly, you’re surprised that your normally astute and intelligent mother would fall for such an obvious trick, and you’re a little disappointed that she doesn’t have more faith in her daughter’s good judgement.

This last one is not such a bad excuse, but it is unfortunately exactly the type of short-sighted, temporary solution so loved by politicians and businessmen, which explains why the world totters from war to war, and from financial crisis to financial crisis. You, I and perhaps we could also include Honza, are really too clever to fall into the trap of expediency and make such a stupid mistake.

The problem is that, if your relationship is going to last more than a few minutes, your Mum is bound to catch you in H’s presence again. What you need to devise, therefore, is a solid, legitimate, long-term, water-tight excuse for having regular encounters with the object of your infatuation, such as a big school homework project. The details of such an elaborate lie can be your next English homework,

Best of luck,

Your teacher,

J.

Chapter 3. Well done, Tania

Dear Tania,

Congratulations! I saw your Dad this morning and he was in perfect health with no sign of broken bones or any other injuries. I don’t of course know exactly what you said to your mother but it obviously worked a treat. It is very pleasing to note that not only does your English vocabulary, spelling and grammar come on by leaps and bounds, but you are at last beginning to show some signs of real low cunning. Have you ever thought of a career as a diplomat?

You may be surprised to learn that I am a secret admirer of diplomats. Indeed, knowing that I consider politicians to be about as useful as head lice, you are probably even taken aback by this news.

But, you see, politicians have complete freedom to create their very own lies, something which they do very, very badly. Diplomats, on the other hand, are saddled with the lies of others, but they communicate them with all the poise and panache of a cat refusing to drink your offer of milk until your back is turned.

“Hello, Mr. Foreign Minister, the Ambassador here! As you know, we elected a new president yesterday, so I’m just phoning to bring you up-to-date on the revised official line from the White House. Apparently, your head of state is now a worn-out old despot, aid to your country ceased as from yesterday, and our army is massing on your border ready to keep the peace if there’s even a hint of anything remotely harmful to our national interests. Now, we are so looking forward to seeing you and your lady wife at the embassy tonight for the big ball. There will be an orchestra from Vienna and one of our third secretaries has managed to lay his hands on a couple of cases of Chateau Lafitte ’86 so it should be a spiffing do.”

Ah, what style!

Of course, I cannot say that I admire all members of the diplomatic service. Find someone with the intelligence of a Czech policeman and the tolerance of an Islamic fundamentalist or a leader of the Klu-Klux-Klan, and you have exactly what it takes to make a perfect Immigration Officer.

With your superior intelligence and linguistic skills, it is highly likely that in adult life you will travel abroad extensively, and it is as well to warn you now that this will be a traumatic experience. I am not talking here about the journeys themselves. In spite of plane delays, hijacks and air disasters, these will be as nothing compared to the hassle of applying for visas.

The first problem you will meet in the visa application process will be finding out where to go. Don’t imagine you can walk through the welcoming front door of the embassy or consulate, throw up your arms joyfully, and shout

“I’m here for my visa!”

The main door will be locked, and there will be a small sign, written in a language they hope no-one will understand, directing you on a tour of the city and leading you to a dirty back entrance.

There you will find another sign, half obscured by dirt and neglect, informing you that visas are issued between 10.00 and 10.05 am on the third Thursday of every month with an ‘A’ in it. As they don’t specify the language to be used for spelling the month, you will have no choice but to turn up at the appointed hour every month until you get lucky.

When you get there, some two hours early to get to the front of the queue, you will find about a hundred people have arrived before you. You will wait, probably in the rain, until the doors open, some two hours late. Then you will be ushered, in small groups, into a dirty back courtyard, with no shelter from the driving snow or blazing sun, according to the season.

Finally you will be admitted, after an intensive body search, into a small room guarded by two enormous soldiers with machine guns. There you will be asked to complete a form written in unintelligible English (or the language of your intended destination) , and be made to hand over a large non-refundable sum of money for what will almost certainly be the privilege of being told you are an unwanted alien.

Up to this point; I’m sure a tenacious girl like you won’t be put off, but you still have to meet the dreaded Immigration Officers.

The interview will take place in a drab room with a minimum of furniture. There will be no chair for you to ensure that you don’t get too comfortable. The two spotlights shining into your eyes won’t help either. The Immigration Officers will ask their questions in the violently aggressive manner of someone who really wanted to be in the secret service, managing to look bored and at the same time completely distrustful of anything you say.

At the end of the interview, they will go behind a thin wall to discuss your case in loud voices so that you are sure to overhear their humiliating comments.

“What do you think, Peregrine, should we give it to her?”

“Looks a bit shifty to me, Lionel. I don’t trust women, even young ones..”

“You’re quite right!.”

“And would you take a look at this passport? It doesn’t even have proper writing. Just funny shapes. Foreigners, huh!”

“But at least she’s not one of those creatures whose suntan lasts right through the winter.”

“There is that, certainly. But where exactly is she from?”

“Russia.”

“Russia? Isn’t that where they have those dreadful communist chappies?”

“I believe you’re right. But I’m not sure if they have them any more.”

“Oh, I say, are you sure?”

“Well, not exactly, but I seem to remember reading something about it in the Times. I don’t normally read the newsy bit. Must have been a day when the cricket was rained off.”

“Better safe than sorry, all the same. Let’s turn her down anyway.”

“Good idea, old chap. I’ll tell her!”

“Why not me? You get all the fun.”

“Sorry, old boy, seniority and all that! Now look here, young miss, we don’t let any old Tom Dick and Harry into jolly old England, and we’re certainly not having a Tania. So toddle off back to the dark ages and never darken our doorstep again!”

And, Tania, if you think that this is the worst you’ll ever come across, I’m sorry to have to tell you that the British have one of the most civilized visa application services in the world. Apparently the French can be particularly nasty and I have heard that the Americans can attain a level of cruelty and discourtesy unmatched by any other nationality. But I expect it will be some years yet before you have to face such ordeals. In the meantime, your current problems with your Mum are sufficient good practice for the later trials of adult life. But this is what growing up is about, isn’t it?

Best wishes,

Your teacher,

J.

Chapter 4. Advice to a distraught mother

Dear Tania’s Mum,

Thank you for your letter. I note with pleasure that your English grammar and spelling continue to improve, although your handwriting seems to be getting worse. This could be the first signs of a nervous condition. If you are also constantly dropping cups of tea and letting wine glasses fall on the floor, these could be significant symptoms.

While I can understand the reasons for your psychological instability, you have a slight tendency to over-dramatise events. You may not believe this, but there are many children whose behaviour is much worse than your daughter’s. You should try to relax more and take these little incidents less seriously.

I read your letter several times and devoted a considerable time to reflection on its contents. Ideally, I would have liked to advise you to ignore your daughter’s relationship with Honza, this being a normal phase which almost all children go through without any lasting physical or emotional damage. However, in your daughter’s case, I am forced to agree that a certain amount of circumspection on your part would not be out of place. Do you know the English word ‘impetuous’? If not, look it up in a good dictionary, because I’m afraid it describes your daughter to a ‘T’.

On the other hand, while I feel the situation merits keeping a discrete eye on her, I do not approve of outright spying. Even children are entitled to certain civil liberties.

So I think you should take the Traffic Policeman’s outfit back to the Fancy Dress Shop. First of all it’s immoral to resort to such subterfuges, and secondly, it’s not very convincing – the idea of a small slim woman like you being a fascist thug just doesn’t hold water. And wandering about town in a false moustache carrying a newspaper with a hole in the middle is only going to get you arrested.

Nor do I support your idea of the private detective. The problem is that your knowledge of private detectives is restricted to amiable amateurs like Mr. Holmes or the lovable Miss Marples from our famous Mrs. Christie. These are excellent examples of this genre of literature but they are somewhat lacking in realism. May I recommend the novels of the American writers Mr. Raymond Chandler and Mr. Dashiel Hammet? You will find their language a trifle brash and disturbing, but they do present a realistic picture of the personality of the typical private investigator. On reading their works, you will soon come to the conclusion that there is perhaps no-one less suitable to be put in contact with an innocent twelve-year-old girl.

In any case, I see no point in pursuing activities of surveillance only. If you are seeking a long-term solution to your problem, you need to take firm and positive action to cool the friendship between your daughter and the gallant young Honza.

Forbidding them from seeing each other is unlikely to work. Experience has proved over and over again that such action only serves to strengthen the unwanted bonds. And, in your case, such a restriction would be impractical, as both children are in the same class at school.

Friendship is based on the pursuit of common interests and herein lies the secret of breaking up their relationship. At the moment they are both interested in cultural and educational activities, like music, literature, poetry, art, languages and computers, and they share a genuine desire to maximize the benefits of education.

So here’s what you have to do. Buy Tania a full collection of boring repetitive pop records with no melody and a lot of bass and drums. Make her go to the hairdresser’s twice a month, and encourage the copious use of multi-coloured dyes. I haven’t noticed if she has had her ears pierced, but, if not, get it done right away and throw in the lips, nose and eyebrows for good measure. Eulogise on the high fashion value of torn leather clothing. And spend hours talking to her about the joys of the expressive use of make-up in strong primary colours. I can promise you that Honza will soon become disenchanted with the reconstituted Tania.

The problem is that you may not like this transformation too much yourself, but, whenever love is involved, someone has to make a few sacrifices.

Of course, you could keep the Tania you know and (sometimes) love, and try to change Honza instead. But this would be more difficult as he doesn’t actually live with you.

All in all, I think the best thing is to let time take care of the situation. In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open. Should you, for example, find piles of ‘Bride and Home’ magazines under Tania’s bed, fell free to get in touch with me again right away,

Wishing you continued improvement in your mental condition,

Tania’s teacher,

J.

Chapter 5 A first lover’s quarrel

From : jteach@english.prague.cz

To : honzatheromeo@hotmail.com

Subject: NO! NO! NO! NO!

Hi Honza,

I’m afraid I need your help, and it’s urgent. I’ve just finished today’s lesson with Tania. We were working on unusual and rather elegant conditional structures, and she was giving me some examples.

If I were to go to Gretna Green, I could get married without my parent’s permission.

Were I to elope with Honza, Scotland would be a good place to choose.

Should we run off to Scotland, our parents couldn’t stop us.

My problem is that I was so impressed by Tania’s wonderful grasp of these poetic grammatical structures that I didn’t really pay any attention to the content of what she was saying. It was only after she had left that the awful truth dawned on me. Obviously, we can’t let her go ahead with this latest brainstorm, and this is where you come in.

So, basically, when Tania turns up on your doorstep with her backpack full of toothbrushes, pyjamas and soft cuddly teddy bears, a radiant smile on her face, and brandishing coach tickets to Edinburgh, I’m relying on you to say NO. This will be difficult, but ‘a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do’. I apologise profusely my uncharacteristic lapse into a horrible American cliché, but I have a point to make.

I warn you that if you succumb to her demands, the consequences will be dire. The last time she tried such a trick, her mother, with absolutely no experience whatsoever, managed to embroil the police and the army. Now, being well practiced in the art of retrieving wayward children, she will undoubtedly make an appeal for a UN special force. Let’s hope she doesn’t get on the line to the US president, or we’ll all be bombed out of existence.

I’m terribly sorry to land this on you, as it will be your first lover’s quarrel. My normal advice to young men is such circumstances is to give in gracefully, as they have no chance of coming out the winner anyway. In your case, however, failure is a luxury you can’t afford. It’s a shame for you, but life deals everyone a hard blow from time to time.

Confrontation is therefore unavoidable, and I’m afraid you are about to discover an unexpected and not too pleasant aspect of Tania’s character. Please resist the temptation to blame her too much, she cannot help it as she is, after all, a woman, even if in the embryonic stage. She is therefore in the relentless grip of her hormonal changes, so all tendency to rational and logical thinking will have flown out the window.

So there is really no point in resorting to reasoned argument, which will get you absolutely nowhere. For example,

YOU – We don’t have a visa for the UK;

SHE – So you really don’t love me after all

YOU – They won’t let us get married at twelve years old, even in Scotland

SHE – So you really don’t love me after all

YOU – How would we get money to live, we’re too young to work?

SHE – So you really don’t love me after all

Et cetera.

In this situation, recourse to the principles of logical thinking is totally inappropriate. You need to fight fire with fire. So, when you see Tania standing there at your door with her little rucksack and her plastic bag of fruit, bread and cheese for the journey, get in there quick before she has the chance to open her mouth.

“Listen babe, we ain’t going to Scotland to tie the knot and that’s it!”

The American accent is unfortunately obligatory. Who could believe such rubbish spoken in any other accent?

To carry this scene off successfully, you must also have the right costume. Denim jacket and jeans are good, but if you have a T-shirt, judiciously torn to reveal bulging chest muscles, this would be better. And a suitable inscription on the front, for example “ Strakonice Strongman Contest 2001 – Winner”, would be ideal.

I apologise again for forcing you to do this, but I’m afraid it’s necessary. In a way you could regard it as an honour to have so much responsibility thrust on you at such an early age. But the Americans are waiting in the wings, B52 engines running and impatient fingers poised over red buttons, waiting that momentous phone call from Tania’s Mum.

Your country needs you!

Tania’s teacher,

J.

Chapter 6 Tania’s new friend

Dear Tania,

First of all, can I congratulate you on your wise decision to abandon your intended trip to Scotland? All of us are extremely relieved and your Mum’s health will be so much the better as a result. I too have noticed that Honza often talks a lot of sense, albeit sometimes in an American accent, and I’ve even thought of mentioning his calming influence on you to your Mum. But perhaps she’s not quite ready for that yet.

Thank you for another nice piece of homework, well up to your usual high standards in grammar and spelling. And I commend you on an unusual and interesting approach to the theme I gave you. When I asked you to write about life in a foreign country I naturally expected you to base your essay on your own experiences here in Prague, and I was quite surprised that you chose to write about someone else.

It’s very nice for you to have a new friend in your class, and an English native speaker too. Pity she’s an American, but I’m sure you’ll be able to help her with her spelling and grammar.

And, being a couple of years older than you, Ruthie could be the ideal friend. All girls, once they reach a certain age, have an inbuilt and undeniable need to discuss things which can only be discussed among women. They call it ‘girl talk’, I believe. Being a man, of course I don’t know what these things are, but I have definite evidence that they exist. For example, I have often optimistically approached a group of female humans talking and gesticulating animatedly, only to find that as soon I am within earshot, they either shut up completely or begin talking in an exaggeratedly loud voice about the weather or TV soaps.

While I remain ignorant of the exact details of these hidden topics of conversation, I am certain that we are not concerned here with the kind of subject about which you can have a tête-à-tête with your mother. But a friend a couple of years older and consequently a modicum more experienced in life would seem to be ideal. Only, being an American, I would not rely too much on any significant quantity of tact or discretion on her part. Of course, I may be stereotyping again, but better safe than sorry.

I was also impressed by the determination of you and your classmates to welcome her into your fold and ensure that she feels completely at home right away. In general, I approve of your plans for helping integrate her into life in a foreign land. There is one aspect, however, against which I must counsel you strongly.

I know that you are happy with Honza, and that it must pain you to think that there are others in this world who are not lucky enough to share the same kind of happiness. Lovers of course want the whole world to be in love, but it is an unrealistic ambition. And you will find that trying to pair up the unpaired population is a painful and thankless task. In most cases, thankfully, you will fail completely. In the rare case where you are successful, for the first five minutes the starry-eyed couple will think you are a marvellous matchmaker. But when the first dispute arrives both of the parties will turn on you and you will be transformed instantaneously into a tiresome troublemaker.

And indeed, apart from getting no thanks for all your trouble, procuring the perfect partner for anyone including your new friend Ruthie is far from the easiest of tasks, and one in which you have no real experience. Have you, for example, ascertained if she is yet ‘ready for love?’

Before embarking on a scheme to pair up Ruthie, this is something you must find out. Has she yet been through the ‘hopeless adoration’ stage yet?

It is almost mandatory that, before a girl can get her romantic talons into real flesh and blood, she has to undergo a period of apprenticeship where she experiences an intense infatuation with some unattainable idol. This is usually a film or pop star with a minimal amount of both talent and facial hair. Having disgusting social habits often adds to the idol’s attractiveness. But the strangest thing about this phenomenon, and something which I take pains to point out when describing it to my young male students, is this. The girls don’t seem to mind sharing this unreachable icon with millions of others, but, when they later move onto the real thing, they inexplicably adopt a completely selfish and possessive attitude to their new acquisition.

The disease of ‘hopeless adoration’ is invariably manifested in an abundance of colour pictures torn carefully from teenage magazines and hung lovingly on the sufferer’s bedroom wall. (True love, of course, is much more discrete. You yourself probably only have a small passport sized photo of Honza tucked into the back of your purse. Don’t let your mother find it!)

So, my advice is don’t be in a hurry to push Ruthie in the way of true love until you’ve had a chance to inspect her bedroom decoration.

Your teacher,

J.

Chapter 7 Something going on in the classroom

Dear Alena,

Thanks for your letter. I am amazed how quickly your English has improved since I stopped teaching you in hospital. I can see you took my advice to begin an intensive programme of reading English literature in English. Your decision to begin with the Complete Works of Shakespeare has lent a quaint touch to your use of grammar which is quite charming really. I should point out, however, that it is not absolutely essential when writing English to restrict yourself to non-rhyming iambic pentameter. And, as a teacher, I wouldn’t insist on it from my students, except perhaps the most talented, like Tania.

As to the content of your letter, I did find it a bit troubling. The presumption of innocence is an underlying principle of all democratic judicial systems, even if police, judges and lawyers find it too irksome to actually apply in practice. However, I feel that we, as ordinary people, ought to set an example in the interests of upholding our own civil liberties. But, as we have often had cause to remark, Tania is an exceptional circumstance, and so, when you say that you are “sure Tania had something to do with it”, it is with a saddened heart that I have to agree with you.

However, I do have some concrete evidence implicating her in the recent events which you mention, so perhaps we should feel less guilty.

First of all, you may have notice that Tania and a certain other member of your body of pupils, a person of the opposite sex from both Tania and yourself, have of late been sharing a relationship which you might describe as exceedingly chummy. No, in fact, ‘chummy’ is a rather insipid choice of word, we’re talking here of the sort of mindless infatuation which convinces me that Tania could be exposed to one of the works of our late celebrated Mrs Cartland without actually being physically sick.

One of the by-products of her unstable state of mind is that she seems to want to inflict her affliction onto everyone currently lacking an established romantic connection. She is currently looking for a partner for her new friend Ruthie, but obviously she is not prepared to stop at just one victim. During our last lesson , she happened to remark on the lack of apparent indications of a ‘Mr Cerny’ –either current or prospective. She went on to ask me if I could describe to her the details of the decoration of your bedroom. You probably have no idea what she was getting at, but when she expressed a specific interest in the existence or otherwise of pop or film star posters on your walls, I knew exactly what was going through her head.

So when you told me of the epidemic of minor technical faults in your classroom, and the succession of young Adonises who have been arriving to fix them, I wasn’t the least surprised. That feeling of thirty pairs of wide-open eyes watching expectantly every aspect of your interaction with these workmen was, unfortunately, entirely justified. Your whole class must be in on it. I only hope you treated all of the repairmen with cool reserve, or you are likely to find yourself sharing an unwanted candlelit dinner with someone whose intellect is stretched by changing the wires in an electrical plug. Tania is nothing if not effective.

So what can you do about it? The problem is that Tania and Honza seem to have embarked on a pre-pubescent romantic relationship which, deprived of the usual hormonal influences, seems to have all the signs of remaining pleasant and stable for some time. In a couple of years or so, the hormones will no doubt kick in, the quarrels and tears will follow, and they’ll soon forget about sharing their anguish with anyone else. But, in the meantime, can you stand being presented with a stream of suitors chosen by eager early teenagers, however well meaning? Worse, will you be able to sustain your sanity when your every romantic endeavour is closely scrutinised by thirty expectant fans?

I’m afraid the only thing to do is to have a quick look round, find someone vaguely suitable quickly, and marry him right away. Inviting the thirty troublemakers to form a guard of honour at the wedding should then satisfy the worst of their curiosity, and if you could arrange a baby fairly soon after, this will almost be guaranteed to bring you peace.

My wife and I are looking forward to an invitation to the celebration. It will be the first Czech wedding we have attended.

Good luck with the Shakespeare,

Tania’s other teacher,

J.

Chapter 8 A plea for help

Dear Problem Page,

You cannot begin to imagine how painful it is for me to be reduced to writing this letter. I am a teacher, a pedagogue, an instructor, a trainer, a mentor, a purveyor of information, ideas, and counsel to those younger and less intelligent than myself, (which, on both counts, is most of the population). Giving advice is my trade, and may I say also my great strength, and I am distraught to find I have sunk so low that I have to ask you for some. What can have brought me to such a sorry state?

‘What’ is in fact a ‘who’ and it is one of my students, a twelve year old girl who is still bright, intelligent, hard-working and perceptive, and who was, before, also fun and a pleasure to teach. Before? Before what? Before Honza, that’s what! Or, more correctly, that’s who!

If I tell you that Tania, ‘B.H.’, arranged successfully to keep both parents in hospital continuously for six weeks, to throw the whole of the Czech police force into disarray, to capture a pair of top-ranking mafia hoodlums more or less single-handedly, and to make page one of the major dailies and the prime-time TV news, you will understand that we are talking here of a girl with considerable talent who was never boring to teach.

But all of this, sadly, is history. Tania has found romance, and, quite frankly, it’s nauseating. And boring! Never before did I stop to consider what the world would be like without a little bit of hate. To be honest, it seemed to me that such a scenario was so unrealistic and improbable that the contemplation of it would be a total waste of time, even for a philosophy professor in need of distraction. Boy, how my eyes have been opened!

Have you ever, for example, tried to have a meaningful, intelligent conversation with

someone who smiles sweetly all the time and agrees with everything you say? Such conversations tend to be short, and I can only add mercifully short. You could count on Tania ’B.H.’ for a good going argument. I don’t know how many more soporific lessons I will be able to stand with Tania ‘A.H.’ agreeing contendedly to the most outrageous ideas I put forward.

But boredom isn’t the worst thing. She now thinks she’s absolutely perfect, and she’s so sanctimonious about it. She and Honza worship each other and she thinks this is the norm for a relationship. She has even gone so far to suggest, with a winsome smile of course, that perhaps I don’t pay enough attention to my wife. Who does she think she is, giving me advice? Who’s the teacher here, anyway? O.K., so I forgot my wife’s birthday, once. The other thirty five times I remembered don’t count?

And I’m not the only one suffering. Her parents are having a hard time too. Can you imagine a man and wife, sitting quietly on the sofa, a respectable distance apart for a middle-aged married couple, when their daughter creeps up behind them, drapes the husband’s arm over the wife’s shoulder, and stares at them as if she’s posing for a portrait of the Madonna? Or can you appreciate how irritating it is for a working husband not to be able to go to work in the morning without being reminded to ‘kiss Mum goodbye’?

Her school teacher is also in the firing line. She used to be a typical modern single girl – happy, popular, outgoing. Now, she’s practically a recluse. She makes her way along the street, from lamppost to lamppost, her eyes darting wildly from side to side, fearful of a meeting with one of her pupils. She’s met every big brother, uncle, and friend of my father, all of whom are ‘single, just like you miss’. The worst, of course, are the ‘big sister’s ex-boyfriends’. Does she look like the kind of girl who needs someone else’s hand-me-downs?

Frankly, all of this has to stop, and this is where you come in. I’m not asking you to break up the great love affair, but could you at least get them to keep it to themselves.

If you do this small thing for me, I promise to be your devoted friend and supporter for life. Only, can we please have a small argument from time to time, for the sake of my sanity?

Please, please help,

Troubled Teacher

Prague

Czech Republic.

Chapter 9 TV review

Dear Tania,

I saw you last night on the BBC World Service and may I commend you on your excellent English. Your grammar was perfect, your pronunciation impeccable, and your use of vocabulary excellent. Indeed, may I say that that the quality of your English language far exceed that of your interviewer. I’m afraid that the BBC, like many other old and previously respected British institutions, notably the Health Service and the public transport system, is in a stage of rapidly declining standards.

I am not talking about the variety of accents which are now commonplace on our airwaves. Cultural diversity is fine, and the old BBC peopled only with Oxbridge pronunciation was both elitist and snobbish. What really worries me is the degradation of our fine British language into the degenerate version which the French, with their customary care and insight in linguistic matters, rightly call ‘American’.

One, but not the only, particularly worrying example of this is the blatant disregard for the use of prepositions. I know they are only tiny little words, but they have a job to do. In New York things happen Friday, in London they happen on Friday. These media people obviously don’t realize the disastrous consequences that the loss of prepositions will have on our society.

For example, you are ready to go to work and you ask your spouse,

“Where is my briefcase?”

to which she replies

“Table”.

You now have to dedicate precious minutes to investigating, ‘on the table’, ‘near the table’, ‘under the table’, ‘in front of the table’ etc.. Multiply this sorry scenario by ten, to allow for your sandwiches, your car keys, your house keys, your office keys, your mobile phone and so on. As a result, the total working population will be about one hour late for work every day. If you consider the similar situation occurring at the end of the working day you can calculate that we are talking here of about a twenty five percent reduction in the productivity of British industry and commerce. And you can lay the blame for the subsequent decline in living standards right at the doorstep of these BBC TV journalists who obviously have a subliminal desire to work for CNN instead and a earn massive amounts of money. The Director General of the BBC ought to get off his backside and doing something about this right now, before the whole country goes down the drain.

In fact, given this evidence of his incompetence, the head of the BBC would do well to resign right now, and leave the way clear for someone with a genuine love for the integrity of the English language. Indeed, in this regard, the person who springs to mind is your good self, Tania. While the appointment of a twelve year old Russian of the female gender might raise eyebrows in some quarters (the job has previously only been held by a man) desperate situations call for desperate measures.

I know you may never have thought of such a career, but can I say that it is infinitely preferable to the path you are currently treading, because, while the form of your televisual communication was excellent, the content was frankly frightening. Logic would seem to indicate that nothing could be more innocuous than an advocate of world peace and universal brotherly love. If only life was a simple as Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity or Quantum Mechanics. The real world is unfortunately much more complex than advanced theoretical physics, and consists of unbelievably intricate and unfathomable things. I could cite, by way of example, international relationships between supposedly civilized countries, the workings of the female psyche and the internal machinations of the Windows (trademark Microsoft) operating system.

It is thus true that in the face of all logic, a proselytiser of world peace and brotherhood, far from being welcomed as the saviour of mankind, is seen as its most dangerous enemy. A few quick seconds of historical reflection are enough to confirm this. Remember, for example, the fates of Jesus Christ, Mahatma Ghandi and Martin Luther King.

So, what I’m trying to say is that, as a result of your twenty seconds of TV stardom, you have succeeded in putting yourself in the situation known to the American Secret Service (and therefore everyone else) as ‘clear and present danger’. You are now a target for all clandestine political, economic and religious fanatical factions with a point to make. The only good thing about this situation is that your Mum hasn’t yet realised the implications, and is basking in the warm reflected glow of your fleeting moment of fame. I’m certainly not going to point out the threat to her and I don’t advise you to do so either. We have enough on our plate without having your mother back in the nuthouse.

The thing is, what’s to be done? My first thought was to seek police protection, but we’re talking here about the Czech Police, and they would probably kill you themselves by accident. I also had the idea that you could go into hiding, but I can’t think of a way of doing it without your Mum having to find out. Another possibility would be a public renunciation. You go back on TV and confess that when you said that if we all stopped fighting and started to really love each other, the world would be a happier and more peaceful place, you were of course completely off your rocker. Thanks to your treatment in the psychiatric unit of the local hospital, and the patience and counsel of older and wiser people like politicians, businessmen from the international weapons industry, and leaders of the world’s major religions, your sanity has now been restored and you can see clearly that such an idea is untenable. However, although I have often written to you about the essentially pragmatic nature of truth, I would not be disappointed, and perhaps even pleased, if you found such a lie too much of an affront to your integrity.

I have come to the conclusion that in your case there is only one viable solution. You must join the secret service. In the current political climate, the CIA are probably overstaffed with Russian agents left over from the Cold War, but I believe the KGB are still active, and I’m sure your intelligence and language skills would be attractive to it. Given your tender age, you will probably be employed as a ‘sleeper’, which means that you will be held in reserve for use in much later years. In this way your mother need not know anything, and you will be benefiting from the protection of an organization which still counts for something in the dirty dark world of espionage.

Whatever you do, I think it is imperative that you get the protection of some organization behind you, and I urge you to take appropriate steps now. I, of course, will help you in any way I can

See you at our next lesson,

J.

Chapter 10. Minutes of the inaugural meeting of the LAW-HA-FLACE

Name of Society : League Against World Hatred And For Love Among Children Everywhere.

Founders. Tania and Honza

Chair girl : Tania

Minutes:

The chair girl welcomed the audience and thanked them for their attendance. Someone thanked her for the lemonade and American cookies so kindly prepared by her and her friend Ruthie. She told them they should enjoy the victuals provided, but she hoped they had been motivated to come by a higher force than the thought of a free bun-fight.

The chair girl then went on to explain her motivation in calling the meeting, and the aims and objectives of the organization she intended to form. She told the assembly of the contentment and happiness she had been feeling since she had become aware of the intelligence, worthiness and masculine beauty of her trusted friend and consort, Honza, The said Honza was requested to affirm that the euphoric feeling was mutual. Honza, his face an endearing shade of beetroot, concurred with an inaudible whisper and a barely perceptible nod of the head. She then went on to mention Mr. J, her exceptionally gifted and talented English teacher whom she had to thank for pointing out the need for such an organization. She wished to set up an institution to promote world-wide – she repeated the words ‘world-wide’ several times, with an oratorical confidence designed to draw gasps of amazement from her listeners – to promote world wide the same joy, happiness and feeling of well-being that she herself – and her constant companion Honza (more blushes) – were currently experiencing.

A discussion ensued about the proposed name of the organization. It was suggested that it was perhaps a bit long and cumbersome, but the chair girl pointed out that there was no point in sacrificing clarity for brevity. She did so with such force and determination that no-one, not even the one exceptionally gifted and talented English teacher present, dared to oppose her, so the proposed name of the society was adopted unanimously. Some time was then devoted to practising the accepted way of pronouncing the acronym of the chosen name. With practice, the name in fact became even pleasantly rhythmic and musical, and someone suggested that it might be a good idea to compose a club song, featuring the name in a sort of hip-hop funky rap setting. This was met with general acclamation, and a sub-committee was formed to produce this work.

The question of a constitution was raised, and the chair girl informed us that she had already prepared one which she hoped, - and at this point she stopped speaking and looked at us pointedly – would prove acceptable to all of us. A small freckled-faced red haired boy then stood up and begged our clever and pretty chairperson to read her proposal to us, and was later rewarded for his initiative with a place on the executive council of the group.

Membership of the league was to be open to all children, of whatever race, creed, religion, and no matter which football team or pop group they favoured. When the presence of the previously mentioned exceptionally gifted and talented but unfortunately adult English teacher was pointed out, it was proposed, seconded and unanimously carried that a limited number of life honorary memberships could be granted to exceptionally gifted and talented English teachers of any age, at the absolute discretion of the chair girl, naturally.

One dissenter spoke up in a somewhat aggrieved voice. While claiming to be a wholehearted supporter of equality of race, colour and creed, he felt that positive discrimination was a violation of these principles, and he wanted to know why this the constitution referred to a chair girl and not a chairperson. The freckled-face red-haired boy who had earlier ingratiated himself made a further attempt to secure an elevated position in the organization by remarking that, while none of us could of course envisage the demise of our clever and pretty current chair girl, it would be perhaps be prudent to cater for unforeseen future changes and change the wording to chair person, and he terminated his discourse by flashing his silver-tinged dental appendages at the entire assembly. A member of the audience wearing a ’Save the Panda’ button badge raised the possibility of a future chair-frog or chair-cow, and it was agreed that the simple term ‘chair’ would be sufficient to designate the role.

The meeting moved on to the need for a committee, and the requirement for the election of such a committee by an equitable democratic process. Tania pointed out that she had, of course, taken the chair merely to facilitate the beginning of proceedings, and would now stand down to allow the meeting to select an appropriate leader. Before she had a chance to finish what she was saying, ‘red hair and freckle-face’ jumped up again to propose her as a worthy, clever and pretty leader of our fledgling enterprise. Honza, eyeing him with a rather suspicious frown, immediately seconded her nomination and she was elected unanimously.

At this point Honza, who was sitting beside your extremely gifted and talented writer of this minute , whispered that we seemed to have lost the whole point of the meeting and become bogged down in bureaucracy, and the extremely gifted and talented English teacher whispered back that this was the unfortunate fate of all promising organizations, irrespective of whether they have social or political aims.

A discussion ensued as to the ideal composition of a committee. The need for a spokesperson was identified, and the red-haired freckle-faced orator immediately proposed that our ‘democratically elected clever and pretty chair girl’ was by far the most suitable person for this position too. I heard Honza murmur ‘Toady’ under his breath, and he gave the spotty one a dark look which would have caused a less sensitive person to disappear through the floor. Then, with unexpected diplomatic flair, he announced that he had to concur with his little red-headed spotty colleague and that our exceptionally brilliant and beautiful new leader had adequately demonstrated her suitability for this post by her recent successful TV appearance. Everyone present agreed and Tania found herself the joint holder of the two most important roles in the society.

The next post to be decided was that of secretary. The red-haired one jumped to his feet again, but Tania quickly announced that she appreciated the trust and confidence of her members, but that she could not really accept all the positions of authority, and that it was only fair that some other people have an opportunity. Freckled-faced ‘Toady’, not knowing who else was in a position to reward his simpering support, sat down again with a bewildered look which brought a wide smile to Honza’s face. Following a suitable embarrassing pause, Tania herself suggested that a certain exceptionally gifted and talented English teacher would be just perfect for this role. In the absence of other nominations, this eminently qualified candidate was adopted, and as a result the group enjoys the pleasure of extremely lucid and well-written minutes, an example of which you are in the process of reading.

Honza was chosen as finance officer, as his prowess in mathematics and information science was known to all present, most of them being, in fact, his classmates from school. Three general committee members without portfolio were also elected, ‘Toady’ among them. Several sub-committees were set up and staffed from volunteers with a variety of levels of enthusiasm, to take care of such activities as ‘organization of demonstrations’, ‘speech writing’, ‘written communication with heads of state’ and ‘provision of coffee and cakes at group events’. The direction of this last group was entrusted to Tania’s new American friend Ruthie, who had demonstrated her culinary skills in the preparation of the cookies.

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