Lucian's Children

CHAPTER 5

The next six months sped by. Both Marcus and Mary seemed to enjoy day care, especially after they were moved to an older group of toddlers.  The care giver called me one day and asked whether I would mind if she moved Marcus and Mary to the two- to three-year-old's as neither of them were too keen on taking regular naps. I solemnly answered that I would not mind at all, but secretly I rejoiced at my children’s cleverness. The two of them now regularly brought home a picture they had painted and stared to relate stories about their little friends.  Marcus, in particular, was very fond of a little girl called Amy who was a petite little blonde and at two and a half, a year older than him.

Surprisingly Mary started to develop more of her own little character and stopped following Marcus’ lead all the time. She now appeared to be a little healer and from what I heard from their caregivers and other parents she was always first on the scene when one of the children got hurt.  At home she did the same.

After a particularly difficult day at work, I pulled a frozen pizza from the freezer and started warming it up.  I hated doing it and frozen foods were only kept as weekend snacks or emergency food.  I was a stickler for a healthy diet where my children were concerned, yet on that day I felt I deserved a break.

“Are you all right Mommy?” little Mary said, watching me as I popped the frozen pizza into the oven.

“Just a little tired and a headache Poppet.”

Mary kept watching me and after they had eaten and bathed, and we had settled onto the easy chair in my room, Mary laid a tiny hand on my forehead.

“Poor Mommy.  It will be all better Mommy.” she said soothingly.

I smiled at her, at one and a half my little poppet was still such a baby, yet somehow had the wisdom of the ages in her eyes.

“You have to fix Mommy, Mary.” Marcus told his little sister.

Mary kissed my forehead where she had moments before touched it.

Whether it was my dear children’s calming influence on me, or the rhythm of the words I read to them, I did not know, but within minutes I felt myself relax and the headache disappear.

A month or so later everything changed though.  I was busy behind an array of test tubes, working on a cheaper alternative for the current TB medication, which was meant to be exported to Africa, when a lab assistant called me to the phone.

It was the nursery school and the woman sounded both apologetic and harassed. She asked me to come to the school half an hour earlier as she wanted to talk to me about Marcus and Mary.

Unable to concentrate for the remainder of the day I left an hour earlier than usual.

The woman who had made the call was called as soon as I arrived, and she promptly escorted me to an office where she closed the door behind us.

“Mrs. Marks...” I had omitted to tell the school that I was a single mom and was not going to do so now, so I let her continue.

“We need to talk about your children…”  She was clearly embarrassed and did not know how to broach the subject.

“What about my children, Mrs...?”

“Oh sorry, I am Mrs. Eckhart, the principal of the school.  I am afraid Mrs. Marks that we are experiencing some difficultly controlling your children…”

“What do you mean by controlling my children?” I asked, now even more anxious than before. My children had not ever been too rowdy at home and as far as I was concerned, they were perfectly behaved.

“Well, it is difficult to explain Mrs. Marks. Your children are still physically babies, not yet two years old, yet they seem to have outgrown their classmates yet again.  Marcus complains when we read children’s books to them saying he is not a baby. He seems bored and irritable with the other children.  Only yesterday we had to separate him from another little boy after he teased him mercilessly because he had accidently wet himself.  The boy started to cry but even that did not stop your son.  When the little boy flung a hand at him to slap him, Marcus stormed the boy and knocked him down. Mary had withdrawn from the class and spends most of the time by herself in a corner of the classroom, where she either sings to herself or draws endless pictures. We have tried everything to involve her in the other classroom activities, but she refuses to budge unless called for lunch or until you arrive. The only child they seem to tolerate is little Amy, but Amy’s parents have taken her from school as they are moving out of town soon. Mrs. Marks, I do not know what to say to you.  Your children are remarkable for their age.  Their command of spoken language is far superior to that of the group they are in even though most of them are a year to two years older than Marcus and Mary.  Their drawings can be compared to those of first graders. You clearly have gifted children Mrs. Marks and although that is something to be proud of as a parent it is also something we are not equipped to handle at an institution such as this.”

I was not in the least surprised by Mrs. Eckhart’s revelation.  I knew I had exceptional children, just the way I wanted them, however at that moment I sighed deeply at the thought of having to, once again, look for a new facility to house my children while I am at work.

Mrs. Eckhart was kind enough to give me until the end of the month to find a more suitable institution for my children.

I could not believe my luck when I mentioned my predicament to colleagues and one of them told me about his child’s school.  The Webber School only accepted gifted children and had no age restriction, as a matter of fact they preferred the children to start attending as soon as possible as they did not follow a government prescribed curriculum.  Listening to Professor Brian, the thought crossed my mind that the school sounded only a tad like some brain washing institute, but when he started quoting names of well-known scientists, writers and politicians I made my mind up to give it a try.

I called the school after lunch and explained that my children had been kicked out of their crèche c*m nursery school as they were ‘too clever’.

The headmaster’s secretary was kind and sympathetic and told me that that was how ninety percent of their children landed there. I could hear her page through a book or diary of some kind and was relieved when she told me I could have an appointment with the headmaster and the child phycologist early the following week.