Cheese scones and Peking duck - Writers Forum

Golden Goose · 06-27-2008, 06:57 PM

Red Class filed into the classroom. There were six little workstations arranged at the table. At each was a plastic bowl full of neatly cut cubes of shining, yellow butter. A wooden spoon lay beside each bowl. There were three small bags of flour, some milk and a block of cheese in the centre of the table. The teacher, Mr. Mildrew, attempted to settle the class. He was hungover.
“We’re doing cooking today Red Class, your favourite,” said Mr. Mildrew.
Frederic, a young boy of nine, scanned the ingredients on the table. He looked about the classroom, up at the shelves, around the worktops. All he could see by way of ingredients were flour, butter, eggs and milk. He felt the beginnings of a rage.
The other children span round their bowls on the spot and dipped their fingers in the butter. They irritated Frederic. Why cookery class? He couldn’t understand it. Jackson kept singing, repeating the same line, in a high-pitched whiny voice. He’d been at it all morning. Now it started to annoy Frederic. This was a COOKERY lesson. You never know, thought the child. Today might be the day we actually learn some proper COOKING. But it didn’t matter either way. Frederic had come prepared.
Mr. Mildrew stood with one hand supporting the weight of his face. “It’s your time you’re wasting,” he reminded the class. Jackson kept singing. Another child threw a puff of flour at him, making Jackson stand up and his chair crash down behind him. “Fuck’re you DOING?!” He screamed at the other child. Mr. Mildrew looked tired. He looked at his watch. The rest of the class hushed Jackson and sat him back down. A few more be QUIETS and shut-UPS pinged about the class as it settled into silence.
“Now, Red Class,” resumed Mr. Mildrew. “We all know what’s expected when we come into a classroom. It’s great that you’re excited but we need to think about our volume,” he said.
Frederic was losing patience.
The teacher carried on talking.
“Jackson, you will obviously be giving me some of your playtime, because we NEVER use those words in the classroom or ANYWHERE, for that matter.” Jackson’s face scrunched up. He couldn’t believe it. “But what’s he throwing flour at me for though?” he whined.
“There’ll be no more throwing flour. But that still didn’t give you the right to use those words,” said Mr. Mildrew.
“I don’t fucking care,” replied Jackson.
Frederic slammed his hands down on the table. “Can’t we just START now, please sir?” he pleaded. Mr. Mildrew gave him a look. There was quiet.
“Okay guys … today we’re making cheese scones,” said the teacher after the pause. Frederic was appalled but Mr. Mildrew had not noticed.
“They’re lovely toasted, with a bit of butter. Now if you don’t like cheese, don’t worry, because cheese has a lovely flavour when you bake it. It gets all chewy, and it’s really lovely. It totally changes.” Little faces of intrigue stared back at him. All except Frederic, who had his head in his hands.
“Is there a problem, Frederic?” asked the teacher. Frederic was really starting to feel the rage. He did not reply.
“Frederic?”
“What?” said Frederic through his folded arms and sweater.
“You’ll need to look at me to talk to me Frederic. I can’t understand you when you speak like that.” Fredric lifted his head. “I said WHAT,” he spat. The other children sniggered.
“Oh, come now Frederic, there’s no need to be like that, is there?” asked Mr. Mildrew. Frederic slammed the table for a second time.
“I’m SICK of it!” he screamed. “Why can’t we ever cook any PROPER food? We’re always cooking this shit!” he was really hollering. “Chocolate Rice Crispies! Victoria sponge! I don’t care! And now we’ve got to cook cheese scones! Cheese is cheese! It’s the same when you bake it, it just goes fucking BROWN!” and he knocked the three bags of flour to the floor with a violent sweep of his arm. The other children liked it. They looked from Frederic to the teacher.
“FREDERIC!” yelled Mr. Mildrew. “If you can’t control your temper you’ll have to LEAVE – THIS – CLASS!” The sudden rise in volume startled the youngsters, including Frederic. All of them sat up a notch more upright. For a speckle of a moment the teacher had their attention.
“Now help me clean up this mess! Honestly! I hope I don’t have to ask you a second time, Frederic, because there’s already some playtime you’ll be giving me.” Frederic came to. He skulked to his knees and swept up some flour with his fingers. It made little pathways in the pile. While he was down on his knees, one of the other children farted. He thought about screaming but he wanted to cook, so instead he sat back down.
The teacher gave the instructions. Rub in the flour, fingers not palms, he told them. The children got to work. Flour jumped over their aprons. Milk spilt into their scales. Frederic remained still.
“Sir, I want to cook something else,” he murmured after a time.
“Well there’s only thirty-five minutes left Frederic,” replied Mr. Mildrew. “What do you propose to cook?”
Frederic reached under the table into his bag.
“Well…” he paused, looking nervous, “…I’ve wanted to try this for ages, and I did the boiling part already yesterday … ” He pulled out the carcass of a bird from his bag. It was purply-pink and blotchy. There were specks of fluff from the inside of his bag sporadically stuck to the skin.
“UUURGGH!” Yelled all the children in unison. Mr. Mildrew was taken aback. The kid had always moaned in his lessons, but this?
“Frederic, what’s that?”
“It’s a duck sir!” declared Frederic proudly. They’ve been eating them since the Yuan dynasty! You boil it for ages then leave it all night. I put honey on the outside but now it’s got all sticky in my bag! I have to put it in the oven for ages, and the skin goes all brown and crispy! It’s Chinese food!”
The raw duck sat on the table. Red Class prodded it. “Frederic’s fucking GAY,” Jackson shouted. Everybody laughed. Mr. Mildrew stared at the duck. “Yeah!” piped up another child. “Frederic eats DUCKS!” the children howled with laughter.
“RED CLASS!” screamed Mr. Mildrew. “We do NOT make that much noise in class! Frederic, that’s disgusting. There are all sorts of germs on that thing! Now I’m really getting sick of this. I spent a long time preparing for this lesson and - ”
“I spent a long time preparing my fucking DUCK!” wailed Frederic. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Right, that’s enough. Frederic, you have wasted enough of our time now. Either we finish this lesson and make these cheese scones, or everyone can come back at playtime and finish the lesson then.”
Jackson got up from his seat and kicked the fridge door. “That’s not FAIR sir!! Why should we have to come back just because FredeRICo eats DUCKS! I’m not fucking COMing back!”
The commotion had attracted another teacher, miss Bird.
“Is everything okay in here, Mr. Mildrew? It’s just that it sounded like Red Class were having trouble remembering that there are other classes going on in the school,” said miss Bird.
“Actually miss Bird,” replied Mr. Mildrew, “there are two children in here who are really having trouble settling down.”
Jackson protested. Frederic slapped the duck.
“I think Jackson and Frederic will need to go through to Mr. Henson’s office if you don’t mind actually miss. They’re really being unfair to the others.”
Miss Bird led Jackson and Frederic away. The rest of the class heard them hissing and swearing down the hallway.
Mr. Mildrew picked up the duck from the table. A small pool of honey had formed. Hundreds of honey-threads ran from the pool to the duck.
“UUURGH!” came the chorus of children.
“Now, now,” said Mr. Mildrew. “That’s enough, Red Class. When you have finished rubbing in your flour, I can give you your cheese to grate into the mixture.”

The children grated the cheese.
Frederic and Jackson sat in the office.
The duck sat in the dustbin.

phurst · 06-30-2008, 04:42 PM

I don't know what the point of this story was as it just went on and on with no plot, tension, or drama. Written okay with a few minor nits but I just didn't get it.

The Backward OX · 06-30-2008, 09:23 PM

Well I enjoyed it. It beats the pants off all the rubbish about vampires and dragons and such. I say ignore phurst who clearly doesn't know the meaning of the word plot. And there was more than enough tension for me.

ablelaz · 07-01-2008, 11:07 AM

Well, I’m not sure how Phurst could have been any closer to my opinion of this particular piece, even if we had discussed it before hand.

On and on is exactly right, but I think he was rather generous in his comments about the writing. I got the impression this piece was written for its shock value and that it has very little to do with serious literature.

That’s pretty much my take on the remarks made by the Backward Ox, made for shock value not to be confused with serious comment.

Talk to you soon---ablelaz.

The Backward OX · 07-02-2008, 04:28 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by ablelaz

I got the impression this piece // has very little to do with serious literature.

Talk to you soon---ablelaz.

Serious Literature? Writer's Forum?

You're in the wrong place, eh. "Greatest Joke Of All Time" is a different thread, in The Lounge, eh.

ablelaz · 07-02-2008, 08:00 AM

Hi Backward OX---I`m sorry my friend , but I don`t have a clue what your talking about.

If your commenting on the quality of the writing appearing on this site, I agree there are some bad examples, but there are many good one also.

Talk to you soon---ablelaz.

Golden Goose · 07-07-2008, 11:32 AM

Well mr Ablelaz..
thought your comment was a bit harsh really but whatever floats your boat I guess and thanks for the time all the same. Not to be confused with serious literature? Define 'serious literature?' I would certainly be interested to read any attempts you make.
Backward Ox nice one. Glad you enjoyed it.
Phurst - I feel like you're missing the point in a huge way. I agree it isn't immediately obvious but for me a good short story is one that gives us a (preferentially entertaining) brief glimpse into a life we otherwise do not get to see. Ideally that glimpse will be enough to make its point by itself - or at least give the reader something to think about.

Here, the glimpse is into a 'special school.' I would have thought the ridiculous behaviour of the children and the fact that there are only six kids in the class made this quite obvious. It is really just highlighting how sad the education system can be at times. In this instance, a wildly enthusiastic child's passions are very speedily quelled by a teacher who is working slavishly to a limited and restricted curriculum. The child's passion is therefore not encouraged in the least. It also highlights how easily a teacher's temperament can wildly alter the course of a day for an individual child.

Having said that and read back over it, I'm not sure this comes across clearly enough. I will soon re-edit. Any more thoughts guys?
Thanks to all who have read.

Easy

Brightside · 07-07-2008, 02:25 PM

Hey,

There's definately something to be said, Goose, for your writing - there is always a big difference of opinion to your stories. Some say its a good sign...!

I had to read it a second time to grasp more of the meaning, and it makes much more sense now, after your last post explaining it. I agree that an edit would not go a-miss. What was your intention with the structure and style of the piece?

I like the last three lines also, but i don't know why...!hmm

Brightside

ablelaz · 07-07-2008, 04:59 PM

Hi Golden Goose---I know my comments were a bit harsh, but I thought I was commenting on a piece which was written for shock value alone.

I have one piece floating about in this forum, but for the most I find the 2000 word limit, very restrictive. My piece is called Cactus Jack, I’m sure you can find it if you feel the need to beat upon me.

’m a seventy plus year old male and the father of a special needs child. My son is now forty four and he still has special needs, he always will have special needs.

I have volunteered in both the classroom and the residential setting. Never have I seen a child of nine in special needs programs who functioned at such a high level as the one you present.

This youngster has the intellectual skill, to even swear properly. My son learned to swear at about nine or ten, but although he knew the words he wasn’t capable of using them in a logical way.

Your child seems to have the intellectual skill to be able to acquire and parboil a goose, skills I wish my son had, even at his present age.

If you are seriously trying to improve your writing, you need to grow a little thicker skin. People help you by being honest and pointing out areas that need work, not by saying nice story I liked it. Well that’s the way this old puppy see it.

Talk to you soon----ablelaz.

The Backward OX · 07-07-2008, 05:40 PM

Hey Golden Goose (and a side note to ablelaz)

Hindsight’s a wonderful thing. I had wondered why I resonated with this piece. Now it all makes sense.

I was never in need of a Special School – not that they even existed in my day – but I do have Asperger’s Syndrome so know a little of what it’s like to be different. And a close friend of some quarter of a century back was a senior special ed teacher and I got to see a lot of her work activity up close.

Yep, ablelaz, I’m in that age group too. We should get a faction going, or something.

Garden of Kadesh · 07-07-2008, 08:27 PM

I liked it. It was well written and entertaining, but nothing that particularly catches my fancy. The character Frederic does seem a little unbelievable, and this doesn't seem to have a particularly strong theme. I don't really think it needs one though - as you said, it's really just a snapshot piece.

Golden Goose · 07-09-2008, 01:37 PM

Brightside -thanks for comments. Glad you enjoyed it and sounds like you read some of my other stuff too so thanks again. Structure-wise I wasn't intending anything in particular to be honest, I just knew I wanted it to be short as possible. Style-wise I wanted to have a purely unnattached, objective air. I feel that the use of third person allows the reader to draw more of his own opinions and imagery from the piece. The story from any of the characters' perspectives would, I feel, skew the scene towards empathising with one of the characters over any of the others (or, hopefully, the reader's). If that makes sense. Whew.

Ablelaz - thankyou for your honesty. I'm happy for people to be harsh I just found your comment on serious literature a bit much. Anyone who writes repeatedly and posts their work has a part of them that believes their writing is good in some way. And undoubtedly we all have very different views on what constitutes good writing. Hence the large amount of writing on this site which is, in my humble opinion, crap.

I hope deeply that I did not offend you any way regarding your son. It was fascinating for me to learn of your background a little and great to know that someone of your age is reading my stuff.
I currently work in an EBD primary school (Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties) in a class of seven 9-yr olds. Unsurprisingly this is where I drew the inspiration for the piece. Evidently the needs of our children and of yours are entirely different. Very few of our children have learning difficulties as such. All possess severe behavioural difficulties owing to upbringings in hideous surroundings. Think sexual abuse, domestic violence etc. etc. Believe me they are very sophisticated in their use of swear-words.
But I stress that I hope you weren't offended in anyway.
I checked out 'Cactus Jack' (with no desire to beat on you). My comment is up there. I would appreciate your opinions on anything further I post.

Ox - the same apology goes...

Easy