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At the chalkface: A Spell against Barbarism

Teaching staff
Like all grand daughters, she is raving genius. Like all four-year-olds she is a poet. It can’t be stopped. I hope it doesn’t get stopped when she starts school, that it’s not blocked by the dread syllabus...

The granddaughter Sylvie, age 4, goes into a trance.

“Rainbow and unicorn.
Glitter goes down the rain.
The sea shimmers at me
The glory of glitter.” *

She intones. A spell, a poem. Yikes! Look out Emily Dickinson! Or is it Lorca or Rimbaud?

Metaphor, imagery, ellipsis, myth and mystery. Wow! I’m the amanuensis round these parts, like one of Milton’s daughters. I listen carefully for the next killer line, quill quivering.

Like all grand daughters, she is raving genius. Like all four-year-olds she is a poet. It can’t be stopped. I hope it doesn’t get stopped when she starts school, that it’s not blocked by the dread syllabus.

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