Paper cut

March 26, 2016 at 6:28 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 6 Comments
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Cut to the quick.

In ‘Prep’ (the entry level primary school class before Year 1) we were introduced to scissors.

Safety was everything.

The plastic handles were colourful.

The blades so short and rounded, you couldn’t find (let alone sever) a vein to save your life.

Along with these scissors came craft paper.

You may recall: sheets about 25 cm square. (Ten inches in the old money.)

One side was glossily coloured.

The other, muted and matt.

The object of the game was to cut the sheets with the scissors and do various arty things with the result.

We were four and five.

So it should’ve come as no huge surprise when Linda (not her real name) on encountering scissors for the first time, tried them on her hair.

Her brown locks fell to the floor before Miss Whiting could intervene.

A parental conference followed.

For the rest of the year, Linda was banned from scissors.

She had to tear her way through Prep.

And given things weren’t heavily academic at this stage,

she did a lot of tearing.

As is the way with children, Linda was marked by the pack.

Like the boy who peed his pants, she was damaged goods.

The sad irony is that these days, Linda’s crude, hand-rendered artistic creations would very likely be considered greatly superior to the norm.

And possibly go viral in their infantile genius.

I observed Linda during the ensuing years.

A slight child to begin with, she seemed to shrink ever further into herself.

Today, I daren’t hunt for her on LinkedIn.

Lest she isn’t there.

 

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

Pic by Rain Rabbit.

 

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6 Comments »

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  1. To quote Dragnet …”The names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

    • Very good, Paul. Thanks so much for reading! It’s very much appreciated. Kind regards, P.

  2. When I was in kindergarten the teacher, frustrated with my abysmal attempts to perform a simple cutting task, threatened to cut off my fingers if I messed up one more sheet of paper. I was four but the terrifying memory remains. Poor little Linda. I completely empathise.

    • Whaaat!?! What a hideous thing to say to a little girl! Thank goodness she didn’t follow through with her vile threat, or we’d be left with @inkyoinker! Such a shocker of a memory, Michelle. But I’m deeply grateful you saw fit to share it. Many thanks indeed. Hope your new digs are working out well. Kind regards, P.

  3. Wow. Your memory for detail is stunning. I remember all these things – they’re in my brain – but only after you prompt me. Otherwise, they’re forever hidden in plain sight, so to speak. Thank you.

    • You’re very kind, Adam. Sometimes I wonder if it’d be a better gift to remember where I put my keys! But we must work with what we’re given. Kind regards, P.


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