In all my years of teaching young children I find that every so often along comes a little tyke who fairly warms the cockles of my heart. And so it is with this year’s intake for we have among us the strangest little boy who irks and amazes in equal measure. His name……or should I say the name he insists wall call him – yes we allow free spirits to roam untethered here at St Winifred the Clubfoot’s Primary – is JC.
Although an odd little chap in many respects I have taken something of a shine to him although thinking back to his very first day at school I did have my doubts for he turned up not wearing our preferred freshly pressed white shirt and school tie but a t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘THE CHOSEN ONE’ thereon. Of course we had to send him back home telling him to return properly attired.
I think it was on the school outing to Canterbury Cathedral that I began to warm toward him. After taking the kids around the place the Archbishop himself gave them a talk about the bible and its place in a world of multi-faiths. The Archbishop was explaining to the children how when the Sermon on the Mount had droned on and on and on a bit the 5,000 who had converged to hear him…..Jesus that is………could feel their tummies beginning to rumble. The problem was that the only food available was just the five loafs and two fish yet with I bit of jiggery pokery Jesus managed to conjure enough food for the lot of them from just those morsels. Plainly I felt compelled to interject and make mention of the fact that Jesus should really have thrown a gnats cock of fruit and veg into the mix for a more balanced diet when little JC piped up saying, “Piece of piss I can do that.”
Little Mary Smith stood up and scolded JC saying, “Don’t tell lies and say rude words – I bet you can’t anyway,” whereupon JC pulled miles and miles of liquorice from a liquorice wheel which initially I believed must have been secreted somewhere about his person. The thing was he produced a quantity of liquorice even bigger than himself so I don’t really know what that was all about although the Archbishop did drop to his knees shouting, “It’s a miracle” or such like.
The children all scoffed into the sweet yet I had overlooked the laxative effect of liquorice and many among them shat themselves on the coach on the way home.
Back in school the next day I was telling my class about the time Jesus turned water into wine. Once more little JC pitched in saying, “And?” I asked him what he meant only for him to reply, “Doddle that one……done something similar a thousand times.” Mary Smith retorted, “Liar, liar pants on fire.” Anyway JC’s riposte was, “Well I can turn water into lager…….do it for me dad most evenings as it happens.” With that JC got out his water bottle; gave it a bit of a shake and asked me, “Miss put your laughing tackle around this.” Sure enough it was a deliciously refreshing ice-cold lager – although I only took a sip what with it being on school premises where alcohol is obviously frowned upon.
A few days later young Laz Arus (he’s from some foreign country; a former colony I think – well isn’t everywhere!) took a tumble in the playground when nasty little Willy Carson removed the spring from his pogo stick and was pronounced dead at the scene. I was ever so worried yet who should part the assembled crowd of infants that had gathered but JC who promptly prodded Laz in the belly button saying, “Oi twato get your act together else I’ll have to punch your lights out sunshine.” No sooner had those words been spoken when Laz sat up saying that he’d never ever felt more fit and alive!
It is with this little boy in mind I deliver up my latest poem.
ODE TO JC
JC is an unusual boy
Yet he is a decent sort
He seems to cure diseases
Even remedied matron’s wart
And when the school was flooded out
Just the other week
JC walked upon the waters
And did something unique
He said it was a ‘piece of piss’
Treading water thus
Then told the other children
With the flood there’d be no school bus
Also when young Mary Smith
Was troubled doing sums
And shedding tears sat at her desk
JC told what 2 plus 2 becomes
I’ve noticed JC doesn’t seek out friends
For his social skills aren’t great
Yet he says, ‘Who need friends anyway
When one can levitate’
He’s a clever, clever little boy,
Is JC aka Julian Cummings
If I did not know better
I’d say he was the second coming!
I’m going to pop round JC’s house this very evening with a signed framed copy of this poem and I feel sure his stepdad Joe and mum Mary will be so chuffed about it.
Right then, must be off…..things to do, jolly hockey sticks and all that!