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Well, I simply hate school.
I don’t care for children — they are unpleasant, troublesome little things,
whom nothing would delight so much as to hear that you had fallen down dead. Yet I would even put up with them if it was not
for the inspector. For three months before
his visit I didn’t sleep soundly. And the
Committee of Council are always changing the Code, so that you don’t know what to
teach, and what to leave untaught.
Thomas Hardy – A Mere Interlude (1885)
Is nothing new? The frustrations of modern life seem to have remarkably deep
roots.
5 comments:
Ah, proto-Ofsted.
Clearly a case for corporal punishment...
Beat the little feckers into the ground, they'll become politicians when they grow up!
Oh dear. Don't rub it in.
When in London Hardy once lived next door to the Chaplain of Wormwood Scrubs Prison. No wonder he went to Dorset far from the madding crowd.
Sam - and just as fearsome apparently.
Scrobs - but surely we want well-adjusted politicians, improbable though the idea seems.
Sackers - it isn't only teaching though.
Demetrius - I don't blame him.
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