Sharpening the weapons: Part four in an occasional series of observations on the Spanish public school system

It must be razor sharp. Razor sharp or the job will be difficult. A blunt instrument is not acceptable in our line of work. Nope, sharper. Test it with your finger. Can it draw blood just by touching it? Good, now you're ready. 

The kiddos, as previously mentioned, have an unhealthy obsession with coloring. They take it very seriously. On Monday, as it was Valentine's Day, we of course made Valentine's Day cards. One little boy, Juan Luis, in 2nd year even gave one to a little girl, Carlota, that he has a little crush on. She blushed. It was so cute.

Cuteness aside, the creation of such serious items is serious business which requires seriously sharp instruments. For example, this:

 or this:

are clearly unfit for duty. Look at that point. Shameful. You couldn't dot a lowercase cursive j with that. It would look like an accent mark. And that crayon? How am I supposed to draw the pollen centers of these flowers with that? HOW? TELL ME GODDAMMIT!!

The kids require something like this:

and this:

Look at those points. One quick jab in the jugular or the eye and you are finished.

I can appreciate the satisfying feeling of writing on a nice crisp piece of A4-sized white recycled paper as much as the next girl, but I also know there are limits. If I am shading an entire piece of paper blue over which I will draw stars or flowers or telephones or whatever, you don't need a sharp crayon. Turn it on it's side and press hard.

As a teacher, I struggle with the kids need for surgical-quality office supplies. Mainly because the only means of achieving these sharp points is this:

One old-fashioned plastic box with a razor blade, screw, and a hole. These pencil sharpeners are also notorious for making points that fall off two seconds after you sharpen it. Which of course means another trip up to sharpen your pencil.

Also, only one sharpener per classroom.

This one-per-classroom thing would make sense on paper, since only one child could come up to the trash can to sharpen their instrument at a time. In practice, however, it creates longer lines than a discoteca on a Saturday night. I imagine the kids are thinking this:

"Hmmm, I've written three whole words already, including my name; this tip is getting a little dull. I should sharpen it before continuing. Aw crap, there are already 7 kids waiting for the sharpener. The teacher said a maximum of two at a time, but she's all the way over there. Hey! My buddy Antonio is up there! I haven't seen him in like 9 whole minutes! I have something urgent to tell him. I have to tell him that my dad is going to Antequera tomorrow to see my grandma because she has a cold from all this rain and that he might bring back 90 bags of extra produce they have and maybe we can pawn off 73 lemons on that blond girl who comes to my house to speak all those nonsense words in English or whatever at me. Yeah, this is urgent. I'm going to get up..."

And another gets in line.

This goes until I turn around and notice the gaggle of children congregating in the front of the room (which you cannot do by the bathroom on an airplane anymore, something those kids should learn lest an incognito fire marshal were to be aboard their next U.S.-bound flight).


"HEY! One, two, three, four, five, SIX niños. Laura, Juanmi, Marimar, Victoria, y Miguel a tus sitios. Sólo puede salir UN niño a sacar punta a la vez!"

I have many a schoolday thought of what would be the ultimate solution to these minor crowd control issues, and if I had a means of obtaining this item, which I have never seen in Spain, and the money to buy it, I would become a golden goddess in the teacher's lounge.

 BAM! Problem solved.