The Whole Business with Kiffo and the Pitbull (8 page)

Mrs Mills
: Why do you think you feel the need to get aggressive when questions are being put to you?

Calma
: I'M NOT GETTING AGGRESSIVE.

Mrs Mills
: Do you feel upset, Calma?

Silence.

Mrs Mills
: Let's get back to the original question, shall we? Do you have any idea why you were asked to see me?

Calma
: Well . . . I could have a guess, I suppose. Anything to do with Miss Payne, by any chance?

Mrs Mills
: Now why did you think that?

Calma
: Because . . . oh, never mind.

Mrs Mills
: You think about Miss Payne a lot, do you, Calma?
Calma
: No! Well, I mean, yes. But not for the reason you're thinking.

Mrs Mills
: And what do you think I'm thinking?

Silence.

Mrs Mills
: Tell me about your home life, Calma. Your father left when you were in Year 6. Is that right?

Calma
: Yes.

Mrs Mills
: And how do you feel about that?

Calma
: What do you mean ‘how do I feel?' How do you think I feel?

Mrs Mills
: It's not how I think you feel that's important, Calma. It's how you think you feel. How do you think you feel?

Calma
: I feel deliriously happy, Mrs Mills. I haven't stopped laughing since he walked out on us and went to Sydney with the twenty-year-old barmaid from the Blarney Stone Irish pub.

Mrs Mills
: Is that right, Calma?

Calma
: No, of course it's not right! I was being ironic!

Mrs Mills
: Do you often hide your true feelings by telling . . . untruths?

Calma
: It was bloody irony!

Mrs Mills
: I can see you're getting upset again. Does the mention of your father always get you upset?

Calma
: No.

Mrs Mills
: Would you say that you are resentful towards men as a result of your childhood experiences?

Calma
: No. I resent my father, that's all. Why are we talking about my father?

Mrs Mills
: Are you uncomfortable talking about men?

Silence.

Mrs Mills
: Is your mother a strong woman?

Calma
: Absolutely. Solid steel and enamel. Rusting a bit on the bottom, but that's to be expected. She's not exactly young anymore, let's face it. Well past her guarantee.

Mrs Mills
: What do you mean by that, Calma?

Calma
: My mother is a refrigerator.

Mrs Mills
: What do you mean, a refrigerator?

Calma
: It's just a joke, Mrs Mills. I see more of the fridge, that's all. Forget it.

Mrs Mills
: Your mother works two jobs, doesn't she? I imagine you don't see too much of her. Do you resent that, Calma?

Calma
: I don't know about ‘resent'. I'd like to see more of her, naturally, but she works hard to provide for me. She's brought me up by herself, doing two jobs and nothing in the way of child support. It's been really hard for her.

Mrs Mills
: You admire strong women, then?

Calma
: I admire my mother, even if it's at a distance. She's a strong woman. That doesn't mean I admire all strong women.
Mrs Mills
: Do you think Miss Payne is a strong woman?

Calma
: I'm not convinced she
is
a woman!

Mrs Mills
: That is very interesting. Why do you say that?

Silence.

Mrs Mills
: Do you often think about Miss Payne's femininity?
Silence.

Mrs Mills
: You told Miss Payne that you loved her, didn't you, Calma?

Calma
: No. Yes. No. Well, I did, but I didn't mean it.

Mrs Mills
: And you followed her to her house, didn't you?
Calma
: No, I didn't follow her. I just knew where she lived, that's all.

Mrs Mills
: Do you make it a habit to know where your teachers live?

Calma
: No.

Mrs Mills
: Do you know where any of your other teachers live, Calma?

Calma
: No.

Mrs Mills
: Miss Payne said that you were behaving strangely when you came to her house. That you were talking in a disjointed fashion, quite out of character with your normal level of sophistication. That you were nervous. Would you say that was an accurate description?

Calma
: I suppose. But I know what you're thinking. I was nervous, but not because I am madly in love with her. I was nervous because . . .

Mrs Mills
: Yes?

Calma
: Nothing.

Mrs Mills
: So you were nervous, breathing heavily, and then you told her that you loved her. Is that right?

Calma
: YES! But I didn't tell her I loved her because I love her! I hate her!

Mrs Mills
: It's often said that love and hate are two sides of the same coin, Calma, that there is very little difference between them. What do you say to that?

Calma
: Yes, I've heard that, Mrs Mills, and I'd say that it is the single biggest heap of crap ever. It's like saying that there is no difference between heaven and hell, or light and dark, or youth and age, or fish and kangaroos. These things are opposites, Mrs Mills . . . well, fish and kangaroos are not exactly opposites, but you know what I mean. Saying that opposite things are really the same is just lazy. And wrong. A philosophy that only the feeble-minded could accept. When I said that I don't love Miss Payne, I meant that I don't love her. When I said that I hated her, I meant that too. No confusion, no possibility of misinterpretation. I hate her!

Mrs Mills
: Do you not think that you might be in denial, Calma?

Calma
: Yes, I am in denial. I deny that I love her.

Mrs Mills
: So you admit that you're in denial. That's a start, Calma. A very promising start. We haven't time right now to continue this discussion. Under normal circumstances we would remove you from Miss Payne's class immediately, for reasons that you will probably understand. Don't panic. I'm not going to do that. Mainly because we are so understaffed at the moment that there actually isn't another class I could put you into . . .

Calma
: Please put me into another class, Mrs Mills!

Mrs Mills
: I know that you are worried but you'll just have to be strong, Calma. You have to understand that what you are going through is a very common experience for girls of your age. It's nothing to be ashamed of and it doesn't mean that you are abnormal or anything. Now, back to class with you. We'll probably have a little chat once or twice a week, just to make sure everything is under control, if you know what I mean. You can tell me anything, Calma. Anything at all. And it goes without saying that anything that is said within this room remains entirely confidential. Just between us and these four walls. When you let yourself out, dear, could you tell Rachael Smith to step right on in?

Calma
: Yes, Mrs Mills.

T
HREE
Time: 9.45 a.m., Monday

Location: Science classroom

‘Rachael Smith says you're gay, Calma. She says you've got the hots for Miss Payne.'

‘Rachael Smith is a lying pig!'

‘Calma's got the hots for the Pitbull, Calma's got the hots for the Pitbull . . .'

Chapter 8
A reflection upon circumstances,
after mature consideration

Bugger.

Chapter 9
The cutting edge of
educational practice

If you want to know the truth, there is one thing that really drives me insane. Diaries. I hate them. Now, just before you start to think, ‘Hang on, has this person only got one oar in the water or what?' I should explain that I don't mean the physical diary itself. I have nothing against someone publishing a whole series of books with blank pages. That's business. I don't even object to people buying them. I mean, it's not my money. In fact, for about sixty years my Aunt Gillian has bought me one every Christmas and I've always smiled, thanked her very much and stuck the damn thing in the bin the moment I've had the chance. But it's not the sight, the touch or the smell of a diary that is liable to start me foaming at the mouth. Hey, I'm not unreasonable.

No. What I hate is the way teachers think that diaries are, in some mysterious fashion, the cutting edge of educational practice. What is it about diaries that excites them so? Do they really think that by setting a diary entry for homework they are somehow tapping into genuine adolescent interests? That we are all going to go, ‘Wow, that was one really dull lesson, but now I've got the chance to write a diary entry on it, the adrenaline is really pumping. This is fantastic, inspiring, brilliant . . . oops, I've wet myself with excitement!'? That's only the girls, of course. The boys will, without exception, plan to write
dairy
entries, in which cows, milk and the churning of butter figure prominently. I've a theory about boys and spelling. I think that most of them are born with only half a brain!

And I know the answer to why we are subjected to the mind-numbing routine of diary entries. Laziness. That's what it is. Sheer laziness. And that's something else. ‘Use your imagination, class. I want fresh ideas and fresh expression. Now what can I give them to do? I know, I'll trot out that old standby, the diary entry.' Double standards. It makes my blood boil.

I'll tell you another thing. Sometimes – no, probably most times – the diary entry is completely inappropriate. I remember last year our English teacher did
Macbeth
with us. Now I don't know if you know the play but it has this woman, Lady Macbeth, and is she a real cow? This woman is completely evil. She pushes her husband into murdering the king just because she wants to be queen. Initially, he agrees, but later when he says he doesn't think he can do it, she tells him that she would have plucked her own baby from her breast and beaten its brains out, if she had sworn to do it. You know, that nothing would stop her from getting what she wants, even if it means killing her own baby in cold blood. And you believe her! She is one cold, unfeeling woman. So, her husband murders the king and gets the crown and she becomes queen and all. And it's very bloody. Our teacher told us to write a diary entry from the viewpoint of Lady Macbeth after the murder of the old king, who was called Duncan. Can you believe that? This is Shakespeare we are talking about here. High tragedy. And we are expected to imagine that in the middle of all the bloodshed, Lady Macbeth is getting out her K-Mart diary every night and jotting a few things down! So this is what I wrote.

Friday, 11.30 p.m.

Dear Diary,

It's been a few nights since I've written to you. I hope I'm
not getting lax, but I've been pretty busy recently, what
with entertaining the King of Scotland and his three
thousand hangers on. I was all for ordering takeaway, but
Macbeth wouldn't have it. He reckons the local Thai
restaurant is over-priced and he's been wary of the pizza
place ever since he had the seafood thick crust and got
crook with food poisoning. So I was up to my elbows in
pie-floaters for everyone, while Macbeth and old Duncan
were watching
The Footy Show
and getting a few VBs
down them. Typical bloody men! Anyway, after all that,
Macbeth tells me he doesn't want to murder Duncan after
all. He's changed his mind! I tell you, I gave him heaps. I
was ropeable. I said, ‘Listen here, matey, it's just like when
you were supposed to be putting up the shadecloth over the
pool. That took five bloody months. No way, mate. Get in
there and kill the old bastard right now or you can forget
all about going to the V8 Supercars next week!' ‘Aw, jeez,
Lady Mac,' he said. ‘Give me a break, will yer?' To cut a
long story short, he does it. Not without a lot of whingeing
and whining, mind. And there is, like, loads of blood all
over the good doona. Took me hours to get the stains out.
Forget that old stuff about salt being the business for
stains. Might work for wine, but gobs of blood is a different
matter. By the time I finished, I was completely tuckered.
So I'll make this short. To be honest, after the day I've
had, I just fancy a cup of hot Milo and a quick read of
Woman's Day.
I'll write again tomorrow, I swear.

I was expecting a detention for that. I
wanted
a detention! But do you know what happened? I got a big tick and a B grade. She hadn't even read it. Sometimes teachers make me sick.

Look, sorry about all this. I know I'm rambling. It's just that I had a hard time after Rachael Smith had finished spreading the hot news about my supposed love affair with the Pitbull. Not content with telling the entire school within twenty-five minutes – not a bad effort when there are over eight hundred kids at the school – she then gave the full rundown to the parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, second cousins twice-removed, neighbours, casual acquaintances, newspaper-delivery kids and the bag lady who spends her time gibbering and drooling in the city centre. I'm surprised she didn't take out a full page advertisement in the local paper. I couldn't watch
60 Minutes
for months afterwards without worrying that my face would appear accompanied by a breathy voiceover, ‘Pervert Student Stalks Kindly Teacher.'

[
Rachael Smith – Virgo
in conjunction with Uranus. There is a
tendency today to speak without thinking, possibly because you
have the brains of a brick. Beware of large-breasted, bespectacled
females bearing two-metre lengths of plumbers' piping.
]