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Greetings, everyone
This is my entry to #WeekendFreewrite organized by @mariannewest. Prompts in bold italics. I limited the development of the story to the five minutes per prompt.

Crazy Ideas

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"Crazy ideas," she murmured under her breath. But she kept on nodding and smiling..
She was being extremely tolerant with the School District Supervisor; not because she was afraid of losing her job, but because she was afraid she might actually kill that woman if she expressed her honest opinion and objections.

She would have to stop her before she said one more word about the teacher’s duty with her students and with the “father land”; she would have to ask her to shut the fuck up or else explain how in the hell a teacher is supposed to teach without resources, sick, and with an empty stomach. The woman would probably raise her voice and invoke the constitutional right of the children to a free and quality education, to which she would have to rub in the supervisor’s face the multiple human and constitutional rights her government had ripped from children and continued violating. After that, she would just have to find a hard object to smash the supervisor’s head and that would be the end of things.

-"…and that’s why we need your upmost effort to have our children and their parents actively participating of these cultural activities. Do you understand, dear teachers?"

[end of five minutes]

Fuente

His socks were wet and rubbing, but he couldn't stop..
He was supposed to dance along the sewage inundated streets, smile for the pictures that the supervisor of the School District would upload to the Ministry’s website (after careful editions and photo-shopping), and cheer every time someone asked “where are the students of Zamora’s Elementary?”.

Never mind his shoes had been collecting holes all year long and his parents had been unable to get him new ones, or even have these ones repaired. He had even been told that he could wear his sleepers to school or even come barefoot if need be. His education was the most important thing and no demands would be put on him other than his active participation in the building of a new system where material possessions would not determine whether or not he could participate and enjoy his citizen rights.

It did not matter either that he had not eaten all morning or that the school’s cafeteria was no longer offering breakfast or anything in the form of food. Even the kids knew about the corruption concerning the food that was meant for them and that was usually smuggled out of school by the principal or some other school employee.

He could not care less for his constitutional right to “free and quality education”; if this was what that meant, he’d rather starve at home.

[end of five minutes]

a headache; that’s all they got with that stupid parade to show the world everybody was happily attending the revolutionary school that created the new man and the new woman. A headache was the first thing the little kid felt after walking 13 blocks with his socks soaked in pestilent waters and his empty stomach sending crazy signals to his brain. A headache was what the teacher felt when she saw the kid faint and fall to the ground. Then, he heard the Supervisor calling, “where are the parents of this kid? The teacher? You have to be more responsible and proactive, people, come on!"

And that’s when she lost it. She knew it was a crazy idea, but it was not as crazy as following fatally humiliating instruction to the letter. Screw her job; screw her life. If this was what was needed to prevent the next kid from falling, then so be it.

She crabbed a big rock from a broken sidewalk and approached the Supervisor coldly and decidedly.

[end of five minutes]

Thanks for your visit

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