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SMALL BOY FUN by Arthur Henery When I was about ten years old, my father, as did many fathers of that era, decided that it was necessary for me to have some special tutoring. This decision had to do with preparing for an attempt at a Scholarship for high school. I am sure many of you realize that, getting a scholarship was a real help to many families, and competition was very stiff. New Amsterdam, my place of birth, had two or three public schools which produced the most scholarship winners in the County of Berbice, and my father felt that my understanding of Mathematics left something to be desired if I was going to get one. Accordingly arrangements were made for me to go, twice a week, for extra lessons to the home of Mr. David Shepherd who taught at a school other than mine. I am sure this arrangement was made, not only because of his ability as a Teacher, but for the following reasons:
Mr. Shepherd was a serious, intense but good-natured man who tried very hard to get me to understand the basic principles of Algebra and Geometry. I hasten to point out that it was not in any way his fault that I never became a brilliant mathematician. I give him full credit for his help in my getting a scholarship which allowed me to attend Q.C. The truth was that, the best time for me on the day on which I was tutored, was walking home around 5.45 p.m. This trip, which in looking back, should have taken no more that five minutes, sometimes lasted ten or fifteen minutes during which time I proved the validity of an old creolese saying. I cannot truly remember what time of the year it was except to define it as |
the time of the Crapauds. For those of you who have not heard of this name, it is really the French word for a species of Frog.
At that time of the year between 5.30 and 6.00 p.m. in New Amsterdam there would be hundreds of Craupauds hopping merrily along going about their business, whatever that was, and I, in my own way, tried with great gusto to help them on their way. In a short time, I developed the ability to kick these unfortunate creatures quite a long distance, sometimes a good fifty yards, especially if I caught them on the “rise”. This many times resulted in them being splattered on the walls of the houses on my street. A powerful kick finally sent one crashing through an open window of Headmaster Boodhoo’s house and this brought this activity to an end.
In retrospect, my actions were cruel, callous, disgusting and thoroughly indefensible except as a true manifestation of the saying “Wha is fun fuh small boy, is death fuh Craupaud”.
Ever since those days, I have lived my life hoping to be forgiven by the Crapauds, before my time comes.
Key to Success Never walk down the hall without a document in your hands. People with documents in their hands look like hard working employees heading for important meetings. People with nothing in their hands look like they’re heading for the cafeteria. People with the newspapers in their hands look like they’re heading for the bathroom. Above all, make sure you carry loads of stuff home with you at night, thus generating the false impression that you work longer hours than you do.
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