why he was late

A short story

Written by

Marilyn Mills

During the many years I worked at a school there were lots of hilarious moments and quite a few sad ones to boot.

One of the funniest moments happened early one morning sometime after the first bell had rung.    Most of the children were in the classroom and a quietness had settled over the School.

Children start arriving from around 6.30 a.m.at the school and the few hours before the bell rings are quite chaotic.   The Secretary and I had greeted students, taken money for fees, given headache pills and throat lozenges, fixed scraped knees and joked and chatted with staff members.   We were settling down to our usual cup of coffee and a hard day’s work.

Suddenly the front door bell rang.

The Secretary, being very English and not abiding’ tardiness’, unlocked the door from her desk and waited to pounce on the very late comer.

‘Why are you so late, you know school starts at 7.40 and that the gate closes promptly at 8am.   It is not right that you should come so late.’   The tirade began!

I looked up and saw the little student standing looking into the secretary’s office from the foyer with huge round eyes.  His mouth hung open in amazement and he looked like a little guppy.   He tried to get a word in edgeways but the tirade continued.

Eventually the question was asked.

‘Why are you late?’

The child looked beseechingly toward the front door where, unbeknown to us, the father was still standing.

A voice answered ‘The car eet is fxxxd!’ (the actual word came out loud and clear)

A deathly hush descended on the front office.

Now you have to appreciate the Secretary is really very English despite having gone to finishing school in Switzerland and living in Zimbabwe for many years. She is a founder staff member of the school and is completely dedicated to her job.  She prides herself on her English heritage and is quite proper – at times!

‘Oh, ok then.  You better hurry to your classroom, my boy’ she spluttered in her clipped English accent.

The child ran back to the father for a quick hug then set off smiling to his classroom.   We heard the front door latch close as the father walked away.

I hung my head and smothered my mirth but after a minute or two a huge guffaw emanated from the Headmaster’s office and we all collapsed in a heap of laughter.

Talk about the day starting with a bang!  

How is that for an excuse for being late?    After that when children came late the secretary made quite sure that the parents were not still standing in the foyer before asking that dreaded question -

 ‘Why are you so late?