At Least a Hundred Words by Hugo Williams The child in At Least a Hundred Words by Hugo William also experiences some form of suppression. However, this time, he is not suppressed by society, but by authority in the school he attends, and the overwhelming need to conform. In school, where everybody wears the same uniform and “stands on the playground with red faces” and writes the same letters home, each individual has come up with a common facade that belies their inner personality. It is the same for the speaker. He knows that he is not “all right.” He, like the other boys enjoy dollops of mischief, giving people “Chinese burns” on the playground. Yet, his very going to the lavatory, a most private and personal matter, is controlled by Mr Ray, the teacher, who stands at the entrance with his clipboard and pen.
He is roughly treated by the teacher too, who turns their heads around and “gives them a boot up the arse.” Yet, these are things that he knows are taboo to speak of, that cannot be mentioned in the letters home. Instead, he must speak of politically correct matters, as does everyone else and these matters are neatly listed on the board- “Description of the floods”, “The lecture on Kenya, Uganda and Tanganyika” all educationally sound matters, to prove the worried parents that their boys are indeed learning something in this educational institution. Letter writing, supposed to be a personal affair hence becomes a chore, and “at least a hundred words” must be written before a boy can be released for tea. He is suppressed in this way: he must do and write as expected before he can get a reward, much as he detests doing what he does. However, we do realise in the poem that the writer is not the only person who is suppressed. So is Mr Ray, the fearsome teacher.
The Essay on Letter To Your Teacher
Dear Teacher, I am very glad to be in your class this year for language arts and social studies. My brother and sister had you and said that you were quite a nice teacher. From the first few days of school I also think that you will be a fairly nice teacher. While I was re-reading your letter I noticed that you this was your 34th year teaching and sadly your last. I don’t exactly know where ...
He too, is trapped in a life that he does not want to be living: he would much rather be “over-flying enemy territory” than teaching in the school. His life is in flying, it “makes a man of him” as this teaching job does not, and even now, he twirls the propeller of his Prestwick ‘Pioneer” absentmindedly, his thoughts in the sky. To him, a job on the ground is mundane; it is not where his love lies. Yet, because the war is over, any reason for him to be in the clouds is gone, and he must revert and force himself into the mould once again. It is hard for him indeed, and this is his prayer: “God give me strength to carry on.” Indeed, strength is needed to carry on for any individual leading a suppressed life.
Like the marble that the speaker rolls, it drops through the inkwell, covered by the table top. A thousand different things may go through us, but always, we are covered, layered by societal expectations. Through the “tip-balance” from childhood to teenage-hood, to the “spiral” of our teenage years” to the “thirty year gap” when we hit adult life, there we are, always rolling, but always covered. The desk top is continually the same, as we have been taught to be: always constant on the outside, for societal norm, although inside we are moving along, finally in the dust-hole, where we have progressed into the mundane dryness and dustiness of life, as Mr Ray has.
