Reopen the schools, Ramaphosa, I beg you!

And give teachers a huge pay rise. They protect our offspring from our own attempts at education, they sanitise our darlings’ language and keep them well away from wine and tobacco.


I love my daughter more than I love life itself but, honestly, it’s time for the schools to reopen. The three-year-old Egg’s teacher lied: she’s not a delight to have in class. As a matter of fact, educating daddy’s little darling is slightly more unpleasant than being mauled by a rabid mutt. Both the lovely Snapdragon and I have given up on the nightmare of trying to teach our little terror skills such as counting and naming the days of the week. If it weren’t for Ouma who showed some mercy, our hooligan would have roamed wild in her natural…

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I love my daughter more than I love life itself but, honestly, it’s time for the schools to reopen.

The three-year-old Egg’s teacher lied: she’s not a delight to have in class. As a matter of fact, educating daddy’s little darling is slightly more unpleasant than being mauled by a rabid mutt.

Both the lovely Snapdragon and I have given up on the nightmare of trying to teach our little terror skills such as counting and naming the days of the week. If it weren’t for Ouma who showed some mercy, our hooligan would have roamed wild in her natural habitat: our complex in Weltevreden Park.

“She’s not naughty, she’s bored with the easy work you do with her,” Ouma tells us. But, at the end of the day, her eyes look tired.

“Did you know that cheese is made of milk?” Egg asked me the other day before she went outside to search for autumn leaves. “We’re doing dairy products and the seasons,” Ouma explained proudly.

For a few minutes I suspected sorcery, because I didn’t recognise my wild child. But then she ran back into the house: “Help! There’s a dragon outside. He has huge teeth!”

“It’s just a chameleon,” Ouma said. “I saw him in the garden this morning.”

“It’s NOT a charm lion,” the potty mouthed Egg shouted. “That f***ing thing is dangerous!”

“I told you not to use that word in front of your parents,” Ouma said strictly. “Rather, tell them what you have decided to become when you grow up.”

“I don’t want to work. I want to drink wine and smoke cigarettes with Ouma,” Egg replied. “But we can’t with this stupid ban.”

“Yesterday she wanted to be a vet,” Ouma blushed.

Uncle Cyril, please open the schools as soon as it’s safe to do so. We do our best, but we desperately need teachers in our kids’ lives.

And while you’re at it, give them a huge pay rise. If government can refuse R35 million every day in cigarette taxes, it can certainly afford to pay the people who educate the leaders (and smoking winos) of tomorrow considerably more.

They protect our offspring from our own attempts at education, they sanitise our darlings’ language and keep them well away from wine and tobacco.

That makes them much more valuable than any politician, in my book.

Dirk Lotriet.

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