Now there's a funny thing - according to my Sent Items the email I just
sent to the GEM list did indeed include the attachment. Yet it doesn't
seem to have made it out to Gemland. (Never had this problem with
typewriters!) To avoid further unnecessary disappointment here it is.
The Museum Education Officer's Christmas
'Twas Christmas Eve in the museum,
And Rupert was standing around.
To earn his small salary, he lurked in the gallery,
No other employ could be found.
He once had ambition and thought a career
In museums was something he'd find.
There wasn't much money, but staff were quite funny -
Well, 'odd' was the word sprang to mind.
He had long since lost all his ambition,
Bureaucracy had taken its toll.
What with audit and virement, early retirement,
Remained as his only goal.
Too many years in the basement,
Too many years on the fringe.
His nerve it was shot, he whimpered a lot,
And the sound of a child made him cringe.
He had no respect from his colleagues,
The Director did not know his name.
His handling collection would not pass inspection,
His eyes were cast down in his shame.
But his children they took it the hardest;
Other Dads had money and cars.
To fend off derision they said 'He's in prison.'
(He oft felt he was behind bars!)
But 'twas Christmas, the season for happiness,
Laughing children, presents in piles...
Though the future was murky, the thought of the turkey
And a week off work raised a few smiles.
But his reveries were very soon broken
When a crowd of young kids hove in sight.
They looked very tough, their accents were rough.
Our Rupert turned quite pale with fright.
His mind went as blank as the driven snow,
His heart skipped a beat in his chest,
And although he tried, there was nowhere to hide.
'What's to do', he prayed, 'for the best?'
'Do I get them to colour a picture or two?
'Or sell them this quiz for two bob?
'Would a guided tour be a bit of a bore?'
The children approached in a mob.
One oik stepped forward, wiped a drip from his nose,
And spoke in a voice cruel, yet slight. . .
'Wot's all these pictures you say can enrich us,
'Wiv knowledge and wonder and light?'
'Dear children' said Rupert, quite overcome
With the thought that the oiks were sincere.
'If you have a yearning for culture and learning'
You'll find what you're seeking right here'.
'Art National Curriculum is the thing that you need,
'Mr Baker the man we must thank,
'A.T.I, Level Two, Key Stage Three will all do.'
The children looked totally blank.
Rupert's nerve faltered, panic set in.
An expert was wanted alright,
With knowledge well versed, and patter rehearsed. . .
But there was not an attendant in sight.
Just then with a flash a fairy appeared,
And a puff of blue smoke filled the air.
She spoke - but of what, Rupert knew not,
As the fire alarm deafened the pair.
'I'm your fairy GEM Mother, Gail is my name,
'Join GEM and you'll go to the ball.
'With object-based learning your heart will be burning,
'Our training days will reveal all.'
'The National Curriculum to you I'll reveal
'No longer you'll be in the dark;
'Art, Science and History, no longer a mystery, '
And our conference is quite a good lark.'
So, Rupert joined GEM and wisdom was his,
And the world beats a path to his door.
With inner resources, he's producing new courses.
Now he's happy, though still very poor.
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