drew wee pictures fur aw their writin. Ah hink ah should of been an Egyptian.
And what’s this supposed to be-hieroglyphics?
Ah hated that sarky bastard. Mr Kelly. Skelly, we cried him though he wisnae actually skelly; he used tae squint at ye through wan eye as if he wis examining ye through a microscope an hid jist discovered some new strain a bacteria that could wipe oot the entire population a Glesga. He wis the Latin teacher but he hud hardly oany classes because naebdy done Latin noo so they’d gied him oor class fur English, and then every time a teacher wis aff sick he used tae take the class, so ah began seein a loaty him. And that wis bad news.
Ye see ah’d never felt like this afore wi oany ither teachers. Ah knew whit they were thinkin of me right enough, ah could see it in their eyes, but maisty them jist thoat ah wis a poor wee sowl that couldnae learn oanythin, so whit wis the point a them tryin ae teach me? Sometimes they even said it oot loud, like when the heidie wis daein his wee dauner roon the classes tae make sure we were aw workin hard and no writin graffiti on wer jotters. (Chance wid of been a fine thing.)
And how are they settling in, Miss Niven?
Oh very well, Mr McIver, they’re all working very hard on their project on the Egyptians. Amir has produced a wonderful imaginative piece on the last thoughts of Tutenkhamun and look how neatly Mary’s coloured in the borders of the wall display.
She’s a poor wee soul but she tries very hard.
Obviously no bein able tae read makes ye deif.
But that big skelly bastard wis different. Tae start wi ah thoat he wis jist borin and boredom is sumpn that disnae bother me, ah’m used tae it, ah hink maist weans are. The furst few days he rambled on aboot grammar and wrote stuff up on the board an we didnae really huvty dae oanythin bar keep oor mooths shut. Which is easie-peesie tae me. But then he startit tae dictate notes tae us and he could time his pace jist so. If ye kin imagine the class like a field a racehorses then he wus gaun at such a pelt that only the furst two or three could keep up wi him. The rest wur scribblin furiously, their airms hingin oot thur soackets, sighin an moanin ower their jotters, and then he’d tease them wi a pause that wis jist a toty bit aff bein long enough tae let them catch up, an then, wheech, he wis aff again lik lightnin.
Me, ah wis the wan that fell at the furst fence.
Ah did try but ah goat masel intae such a complete fankle that ah hud tae stop writin, and insteid a bein like the ither teachers and jist leavin me in peace or sendin me a message or sumpn he hud tae make hissel smart by drawin attention tae me. Jist a big wean really, though it didnae feel that way at the time.
Do you know what hieroglyphics are, Mary?
Aye, sur. It’s Egyptian writing.
Yes, sir, not Aye, sir. I is the first person nominative, not that any of you will know what that means, of course, since you no longer have the good fortune to be properly educated in the classical tradition. Maybe if you would learn to speak properly you could then write properly.
The class were aw sittin up like circus lions at this point, wonderin whit the ringmaister wis gonnae dae next. Sometimes he would launch intae a big long speech and then ye didnae huv tae dae oany work. Which wis hunky-dory as long as you wereny the wan he’d lamped oanty.
So, Mary, if hieroglyphics means Egyptian writing, why do you think I am referring to your script using that term?
Because you cannae … can’t read it, sur.
Precisely, Mary. And since the function of reading is to communicate, what point is there in writing something which is utterly unintelligible?
Ah jist sat there.
Well Mary, I’m awaiting your answer.
But if you were an Egyptian you could read hieroglyphics, sur.
Are you trying to be funny, girl?
No, sur.
I thought not. Well Mary, since neither you nor I nor anyone in this room appears to hail from ancient Egypt, you are going to have to learn to write in a legible hand. And since you have not managed to write down today’s notes then I suggest you borrow someone else’s jotter and copy them out tonight.
Ah wis mortified, pure mortified. The lassie next tae me passed her jotter ower wioot sayin a word and ah pit it in ma bag and walked oot the room. And from that day sumpn funny startit tae happen that ah couldnae unnerstaun. The class stopped talkin tae me but it wisnae like they’d aw fell oot wi me; ah mean if ah asked tae borrow their Tipp-ex or said did ye see Home and Away last night, they wid answer me, but they widnae say much and they never startit a conversation wi me. And there seemed tae be an empty space aw roond me in the class, fur naebdy sat next tae me if they could help it. Ah couldnae figure it oot, fur they aw hatit auld Skelly, so how come jist because he didnae like me they didnae either. You’d hink it wid be the ither way roond.
And it wisnae jist in his class either, ah could of unnerstood that aw right fur who wants tae sit near the target practice? But it wis in every class, and the playgrund and the dinner school And when ye move up tae the big school it’s a time when friendships kindy shuffle roond like wanny they progressive barn dances, and ye make new wans an ye lose auld wans and somehow in the middly aw this process ah fund masel oot the dance wioot a partner. And it wisnae nice.
Then ah startit daein the hieroglyphics fur real. In the beginnin it wis part of oor History project on the Egyptians. We hud tae make up oor ain version, writin wee messages and stories. Miss Niven presented it tae us as if it wis some crackin new original idea, though of course we done it in Primary Four (but we didnae tell her that cos it wis better than readin aboot the preservation a mummies). And ah turnt oot tae be dead good at it. Somehow the wee pictures jist seemed tae come intae ma heid and it wis that easy compared tae writin words. If ye wanted tae say would you like a cup of tea?, ye jist drew a wee cupnsaucer an a mooth wi an arra pointin at it and a question mark. Nae worryin aboot whit kindy wood it wis or how many e’s in tea.
And gradually ah progressed fae writin wee messages tae writin whole stories in pictures. Ah spent ages gettin them jist right and colourin them in wi felties and Miss Niven even gied me a special fine black pen fur daein the outlines. And the rest ae the class moved on tae the Second World War but ah stayed in ancient Egypt, stuck in a coarner a the room wi a pile a libry books roond me, drawin they wee sideyways people wi their big fish eyes. They used tae get buried wi aw the hings they thoat they’d need in their next life, they even took their food wi them, and it set me wonderin whit would ah huv took wi me intae ma next life, but then how would ye know whit it wis gonnae be like? It’s a bit like gaun tae Ayr fur the day, will ye be runnin aboot on the beach in yer shorts or sittin in the café wearin five jumpers, watchin the rain pour doon? And if ye cannae prepare yersel fur a day at the seaside, how the hell ur ye gonnae dae it fur yer next life?
And the mair ah studied they libry books the mair ah could see things huvnae changed aw that much since the time a the Egyptians. They hud gods that were hauf-human an hauf-animal and as ah looked at their pictures ah saw the faces a ma teachers. So ah drew some gods ae ma ain. Miss Niven wus a wee tweetery wumman, aye dartin roond the classroom so ah gied her the body ae a wumman and the heid ae a wee speug, coacked tae wan side. Then there wis Mr Alexander, hauf-man, hauf-fish cos he wis aye losin the place. Auld
