At 4:00pm today (Saturday) we had the Childrens' Christmas Concert, hosted by my 8 yr old daughter's school. Very enjoyable, I must say. The kids had been practicing for weeks, learning songs, recitals, monologues and the like. None of them appeared to be nervous standing in a spotlight all alone on stage holding a mic with 100 odd folks in the audience.
They even enjoyed it, and put their hearts and souls into remembering their lines and delivering their pieces with courage and meaning.
Soon after the performance, I saw my wife receiving (and sending) lots of WhatsApp messages, then she turned to me and said, the parents have spontaneously organized a meal at a restaurant tonight, do we want to go? Yes said I, why not. So she typed the address into the iPad and off we went.
It was 20km out of town at a very remote village, at a new complex built from funds raised from local businesses, to provide this run-down village with a community hall.
We got inside and it was very pleasant, all new and still not finished, but it was fully functional.
There was a bar, tables and chairs, and a pizza oven. A real one, brick built and big with the small opening where the chef slides the pizzas in and out with a long handled paddle thingy. To one side was another opening with a steel door, where from time to time the chef threw in another log to keep the wood fire at a regular heat. The kids loved it (kids always like pizza for some strange reason) so the chef gave them all plastic hair covers and invited them to help make pizzas.
Brave man, I thought, but the kids were well behaved and all joined in and they were fascinated that the pizzas were cooking by a log fire and not in a microwave or electric/gas oven, as they'd seen at home or the local pizza parlor.
The adults were served a cold meat and salads starter, and main was BBQ chicken, mici, sausages, ribs and baked hams (whole shoulders) with a host of side dishes (£10 a head was a steal, there was loads of food and drinks).
After the meal, the teacher stood for a moment and thanked everyone for the surprise night out, and of course the kids for putting on such a good show and making so much effort.
In the corner of the room was a tall heavily decorated Christmas tree, sparkling away. Suddenly, without announcement, all the kids jumped up and ran to the tree. None of the parents knew what was going on, us included, but there was Ana (our kid) up with all the others arranging themselves, tallest at the back shortest at the front, and some little ones (brothers and sisters) sat at the very front. They had their backs to the tree facing their parents at the tables.
It all went quiet, then without a word, they started to sing. It was a song they'd made up, sang to the tune of jingle bells, about their teacher, how strict but kind she was, and how they liked to be in school learning what they do.
I was gobsmacked TBH.
My memories of school when I was a kid, and my memories of the U.K. when I left in 2001, would not let me imagine that such a thing could, or would happen. The kids had planned this all by themselves, intending to perform it as the last number of the stage show at the school concert, but teacher had bundled them off the stage before they'd had a chance to perform it.
At the restaurant, they seized their moment.
Half the Mums and teacher were crying and the dads just couldn't believe it. It was quite a moment.
I'm not so sure where I'm going with this, maybe nowhere, it just happened.
Or maybe there's hope after all, in these "modern" times.
They even enjoyed it, and put their hearts and souls into remembering their lines and delivering their pieces with courage and meaning.
Soon after the performance, I saw my wife receiving (and sending) lots of WhatsApp messages, then she turned to me and said, the parents have spontaneously organized a meal at a restaurant tonight, do we want to go? Yes said I, why not. So she typed the address into the iPad and off we went.
It was 20km out of town at a very remote village, at a new complex built from funds raised from local businesses, to provide this run-down village with a community hall.
We got inside and it was very pleasant, all new and still not finished, but it was fully functional.
There was a bar, tables and chairs, and a pizza oven. A real one, brick built and big with the small opening where the chef slides the pizzas in and out with a long handled paddle thingy. To one side was another opening with a steel door, where from time to time the chef threw in another log to keep the wood fire at a regular heat. The kids loved it (kids always like pizza for some strange reason) so the chef gave them all plastic hair covers and invited them to help make pizzas.
Brave man, I thought, but the kids were well behaved and all joined in and they were fascinated that the pizzas were cooking by a log fire and not in a microwave or electric/gas oven, as they'd seen at home or the local pizza parlor.
The adults were served a cold meat and salads starter, and main was BBQ chicken, mici, sausages, ribs and baked hams (whole shoulders) with a host of side dishes (£10 a head was a steal, there was loads of food and drinks).
After the meal, the teacher stood for a moment and thanked everyone for the surprise night out, and of course the kids for putting on such a good show and making so much effort.
In the corner of the room was a tall heavily decorated Christmas tree, sparkling away. Suddenly, without announcement, all the kids jumped up and ran to the tree. None of the parents knew what was going on, us included, but there was Ana (our kid) up with all the others arranging themselves, tallest at the back shortest at the front, and some little ones (brothers and sisters) sat at the very front. They had their backs to the tree facing their parents at the tables.
It all went quiet, then without a word, they started to sing. It was a song they'd made up, sang to the tune of jingle bells, about their teacher, how strict but kind she was, and how they liked to be in school learning what they do.
I was gobsmacked TBH.
My memories of school when I was a kid, and my memories of the U.K. when I left in 2001, would not let me imagine that such a thing could, or would happen. The kids had planned this all by themselves, intending to perform it as the last number of the stage show at the school concert, but teacher had bundled them off the stage before they'd had a chance to perform it.
At the restaurant, they seized their moment.
Half the Mums and teacher were crying and the dads just couldn't believe it. It was quite a moment.
I'm not so sure where I'm going with this, maybe nowhere, it just happened.
Or maybe there's hope after all, in these "modern" times.
can't fault you for sharing that mate 
