Life Across the Pond
It was seven am, and already the sun was unbearably hot. All the children, in their pressed navy blue pants - or jumpers for the girls - with white shirts tucked in, smelling of starch, were queued up in lines of two - boys and girls - doing our periodic, but tiresome, morning "exercises". "Hands up. Hands out. Hands down," the loud voice over the PA system rambled on; it was so quiet that the voice reverberated throughout the entire school courtyard. The lines went from youngest, starting on the right side of the yard, to oldest, ending on the left side of the yard, which just happened to be adjacent to the principal's office. As the microphone is handed over to the succeeding person, the feedback from the mic echoes and everyone cringes in unison. A feminine, high pitched voice comes on and says good morning;
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It was one great hall divided by five feet blackboards on wheels that would squeak at the slightest touch. The long, three feet high, wooden, hollowed out desks needed sanding down to smooth out the rough surface, and it could hold up to three students. We sat in alphabetical order - I sat in the middle of the room - and no one dares ask to be relocated because it was not permitted. The teacher started by calling roll, and after naming thirty-three children, she set the agenda for the day. First, we would focus on Agriculture, then Arithmetic, followed by our first recess, and when we got back from recess, she promised us a field trip. The itinerary of this field trip became the talk of the town amongst the students of the class - where were we going, what was going to happen there and what would we be doing? The first third of our day passed quickly, with all of the students in anticipation of our impending trip. Recess came along, and everyone eagerly exited the great