Sun-Earther

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Jonah and the educational psychologist

January 16, 2007

Gaw, reading Misty's latest entry really took me back. You see, my dad taught me to read before I went to school as well. When I finally arrived at primary school I got pretty bored with the basic literacy lessons. A combination of this and my (then) over-active imagination led me to dick about at school a lot in rather weird ways.

After a couple of months, the headteacher decided that the school needed to find out why I spent many lessons hiding under the tables, peeling magnetic strips off the classroom toys and sticking them to my wrists and engaging in other odd behaviour. So, an Educational Psychologist was called in ....

Now, said kiddyshrink was apparently fresh out of kiddyshrink college and was full of (at the time: it was the mid-seventies) trendy ideas. His schtick was observation of his subject, in secret so that he didn't influence their behaviour (we've all been there, mate - *cough*). Basically, hiding and watching so as to minimise the Hawthorne effect.

To this end, he set himself up in the headteacher's office. He put a big A2 sheet of sugar paper and some marker pens on the table to give me something to do and to provide him with some free-form doodles to analyse later, hung his jacket over the chair so that it looked like he'd just popped out for a minute, and hid behind the door. Then the headteacher sent me in to wait for the nice man who was coming to see me.

Now, I like me some doodling now, but as a kid I downright loved it. Being taken out of lessons and being told to draw was a real stroke of luck. I set to the sugar paper with gusto, scribbling robots, tanks, cars, spacehips and monsters with abandon, chin jutting. (Some people stick their tongues out while concentrating, I push my chin out like I'm entering the all-nations Desperate Dan lookalike regional finals.)

The kiddyshrink had been taking copious notes on my posture and the various nonsense noises that I made when I was concentrating on something I enjoy (I still hum when I'm eating really nice food, to this day). Now, A2's a good size bit of paper for drawing, but after a few minutes I'd filled it right up because all I had to draw with were the thick-tipped permanent markers that the kiddyshrink had left out for me. After a minute or two with nothing to draw on, I began to get bored of the dusty office and looked around for things to do, maker still clutched in my ink-stained grubby hand.

There was absolutely sod-all to do: the head's office was all filing cabinets, shelves of thick books with plain covers and, being the seventies, not even a computer on which to play solitaire. I was growing impatient. Where was this visitor I'd been told about? I had nothing left to draw on! He was supposed to be here - look, there was his jacket over the back of the chair!

His brand new, beautiful suede jacket.

I looked at the chunky marker pen in my hand, and then back at the jacket.

What can I say? I was bored, bored out of my mind. I reached over with the pen ...

The next instant a strange man erupted from behind the door, shouting at me and grabbing at the pen. Now, I'd been warned all about strangers as a kid, and here was one coming straight at me. Needless to say I went from bored out of my mind to scared out of my wits like that. I screamed. I cried. I won't deny that a certain amount of urine may have been involved. The head and half the admin staff came running.

I don't think that the kiddyshrink got anything useful since he obviously didn't get to complete the interview section of the analysis, leaving him with just a bunch of pictures of robots and cowboys (conclusion: subject is a small boy). All in all a bit of a waste of time all round, really, after all, I wasn't "troubled", I just needed more of a challenge.

Still, although I didn't manage to get a dot of ink on his new powder blue suede jacket, I'm glad to say that I manged to cover a lot of it in piss.

Posted by Jonah at January 16, 2007 1:20 PM

Comments


Excellent! :-D

I was told that if a stranger ranb at me shouting, I was to kick them as hard as I could before running away, pronto.

Pissing on his jacket sounds a far better thing to do! :)

Posted by: Misty at January 16, 2007 3:59 PM


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