Thursday, 16 June 2011

End of School

I attended my cousin's end-of-school ceremonies before the holidays. The principal of the grade school stood up to give a speech, and we knew it would be a long one when he began with, "I'm not going to comment on the weather."

(The children had just sung about summer and sun when in reality we were experiencing a blustery and cold Swedish summer day.)

Speaker: Just before I came up here, two girls went to Malin to see if she would speak instead because if she did, the sun would probably come out."

Assorted laughter. The speaker goes on for a bit before taking a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, while we shift our positions on the grass and hop from foot to foot to regain feeling in our toes. Now the speech begins.

A plane flies overhead.

Speaker (cheerily, recovering) :  Of course. How unusual that a plane should fly through as I'm speaking.

Uncle (leaning over towards me): Well, not really. If you keep going, there's always a good chance an airplane will pass by.

The speaker goes on about how the school has stood mainly empty because of renovations which have forced the students to inhabit another school in another district. He says he misses the parents stopping by to pick up their kids and talk to the teachers. 

Speaker: You know that old saying, "you only miss the cow when the stall is empty."
Uncle: Did he just compare us to livestock?

My aunt laughed.

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