Our school is really big on Public Speaking. They love it and from Kindy you had to do a speech every term in front of the class. From there, you may or may not be selected to go into the “Speak Off’s” and if you win it, I think that there is some sort of cake and parade and shit.
Some of the speeches, I suspect, are written by some very clever parents who want their kids to get the cake and parade and shit. And some are written entirely by the kids. Like mine.
You get plenty of lead up time to Speech Week. There is a topic assigned, you need to speak for 3 minutes and are judged on a whole heap of criteria, including the neatness of your palm cards.
My kids told me on Monday Night, that on Tuesday they both needed to deliver their speeches. We have all had WEEKS to prepare these. WEEKS! And now we were faced with a 12 hour lead time, of which 8 would be spent in sweet, sweet slumber.
Harry’s topic was “If you could have anything you want, what would it be?” We discussed an end to world hunger, a cure for cancer and the possibilities for better health facilities before he decided he wanted to write about having a limousine and a driver so that if he decided to have a beer he would not drive the car into a tree.
Jack had no idea what his topic was so I made a few calls to other Year One mums, who were absolutely no help whatsoever. IF YOU ARE READING THIS, THANKS FOR NOTHING! You should be ashamed of yourself, not reading the notes that come home from school. FOR SHAME.
Then one mum had the answer. They could speak about anything they wanted to. And upon delivering this message to my son, he know exactly what he wanted to do his speech on.
I scribed his speech. He is actually extraordinarily knowledgeable about all things Masterchef. He has bought a little of this expertise into real life, with my meals now rated each evening.
“I score this dish a 3 Mum”
That is because it is fucking mashed potato with some tomato sauce because that is all you eat.
Jack’s speech was quite good and he practiced it like a demon until he did not really need the palm cards.
I collected them from school yesterday and enquired how the speeches went. Harry told me he was pretty bad, but not as bad as another boy and Jack said he was perfect and was pretty sure that he had spoken his way into “The Speak Offs”
Later that evening I was watching Masterchef with Jack when I got a text message from on of the Year One Mums. Telling me. That. The Topic…..
WAS TO RECITE A MOTHERFUCKING POEM.
So I can only imagine Jack’s teachers face when he got up and drivelled on for 3 minutes about the merits of Masterchef while the rest of the class recited poetry.
Yeah so I went in and fessed up that I fucked up and his teacher was all like “I really don’t care as long as they get up in front of the class and speak. It made a nice change to be honest and I didn’t even realise that Gary had such monkey-like ears.”
Phew. Was not the target of attempted sabotage by the Year One Mothers. Can rest easy tonight.