Ah, from the mouths of babes...

Those hoping for a sentimental tract on the innocence and insight of children (and who, of course, have no previous acquaintance with my blog, in which case they'd already know such hopes would be dashed) will not find it here. Augustine was quite correct that, if children do not manage the degree of sinfulness of their elders, it is more from weakness of limb than purity of heart. That, as well, does not happen to be my topic for today. I'm thinking more of how it amazes me that many adults not only glorify childhood but are disappointed to find that children do not idealise their parents (teachers and other authority figures) - do not have the main goal in life of meeting with this esteemed company's approval (beware of those who do, who are budding sycophants) - and are not falling over with gratitude each moment at how very much their parents (et al) sacrifice for them. I sometimes have the impression that (some) parents and teachers, among others who assume such esteem, besides having amnesia about their own youth (to an extent that could only be cultivated deliberately), would rather like homage which should be reserved to God Himself. (God, of course, would be completely aware that most people don't spend much time thinking of or worshipping Him, either, and that He is more likely to enter their thoughts when they are in need of something. In that, we all are children.)

When I was in school (not the endless university years... here I mean from about age 5 through 14 or so), it tended to happen, every few years, that one of the teachers would get the idea for a school newspaper. (We did have one in secondary school, for which I was an editor - I still have scars on my integrity because, since it was based on 'school spirit' rather than truth or insight, I therefore could not publish any submissions that actually were worth anything. I'm not speaking of that 'newsletter,' but of small efforts in my earlier school years.) Somehow, the idea never took off. I think that one 'newspaper' (which was really hyped, with their even being a contest to determine a name) had a grand total of one actual issue, and the one with which I was involved later, when I was perhaps 13, had loads of preparation but no actual printing.

One of my assignments for the latter was the brainchild of our principal, Sister Christopher. She wanted me to approach older pupils and teachers who'd been at the school for several years, asking what, in all their years in the school, was their happiest memory.

I had a feeling that, for any chance of publication, I'd best approach the kids who were reasonably good students, and who didn't get into major trouble. (There was those from whom I could have had really colourful and varied responses, but contributions about getting a buzz on altar wine or necking in the janitorial closet I knew instinctively would be tossed.) Five boys, all within the safe zone, gave me exactly the same answer, though I'd asked them separately. They lived in the same neighbourhood, and periodically would go out for breakfast in the very early morning, then proceed to school together. To a man, their happiest memory was of when an emergency meant a school closing. They'd left too early to have been notified, and the janitor gave them the news on arrival - that unexpected holiday, which they naturally spent together, was pure bliss.

Their response, of course, did not surprise me then or now. (Adults would love an unexpected holiday no less - but would not be that likely to admit this was the case.) In fact, every pupil I interviewed had a favourite memory which involved fun things, not studies. A few mentioned teachers, but in the "it was so funny when..." context, not "oh, she was such an inspiration!" mode. What indeed did surprise me (then and now) is that Sister Christopher, who probably had been teaching for three decades, would have anticipated glowing testimonials to being forced into hard work or something of that sort. She should have known kids' minds better than that by then.