Smugness leaped to his face when she arrived; he was ready to lock horns with the monster that dared to doubt his child.

Her record was brushed aside

   – how dare she make an assessment of his child, his precious who slaved over an assignment the night before only to be ignored, oblivious of the irony staring him in the face.

Her explanation of mediocre work shared with another thus obviating the tenet of scholarly work and intellectual probity shot over his neatly combed hair.

“You don’t know how to appreciate!” he shouted, repeating it like a mantra with each utterance a higher octave than the previous one.

He knows him better he droned on.

No one knows him better than him.

It’s a litany of her faults,

of being strict and adhering to a standard that called for Spartan discipline in the face of mounting distractions;

of readiness in the face of laziness;

and meticulousness amidst carelessness.

Accusation upon accusation were hurled through the air, hoping to reduce her to

sniveling fool, kowtowing to god on earth.

She looked at him with steely eyes.


She peruses the document lazily, pretending to make heads and tails of the foreign language.

Her son was attending English courses so he certainly couldn’t fail.

He could speak, mimic even the American accent (British at times) of the instructors – who cared if depth was conspicuously absent?

Details were superfluous – her son knew English full-stop.

She merely smiled as the meeting adjourned, quickly shoving the card into her capacious Birkin, and was gone in seconds.

She watched her walk away, thinking of what to have lunch.


 “Don’t give homework!” was her astute solution to her son’s dismal performance in dealing with the values of x and y.
Practice makes perfect was the instructor’s counsel that was flicked off like lint.

Her son was perfect enough, smart enough and fluent enough in English.

And, like the other, was gone in seconds leaving a threat as a goodbye.

She shouted her permission to speak to the Head and went back to her guessing game in her head: Louboutin or Cavalli heels.


One response to this post.

  1. Posted by ako_si_aoisoba on January 19, 2011 at 12:32 pm

    hinga hinga!! goodness sinong pontio pilato yan!


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