A report from the committee charged with improving school tone

No knives, they said. No cutting, no hanging things on walls. No stoning, even if you are mad. Be good, they said, and quiet. And keep your pens, they said. Keep your poetry at home. Don’t kiss and don’t inflame. Don’t wave your arms. It’s a hall, not a stage and not a ball. Don’t eat sweet things, they said, for you will rot. And if you open any window, you will deal with devil’s wrath.

We are a school, they said. We have very much to teach you about equations – we are X, you are not. You are F of X. Your days (ending at four now) are a function of our whims, etc. If you hanker after looser ways, if you want to be the modern Robin Hood, please do. Turn on the escalator with your key. Storm the minor Bastille prison. And we will sit like toads and stamp red marks on all your papers. And we will draw up hit lists of your friends.

No guitars, they said. The things are fit for firewood. And you will need it, they said. The Prague Spring has finished.

Respectfully submitted.