THE PLAYROOM OF THE ONE PER CENT

“Right,” said Sean they pulled up, “here goes!”

Sally gazed at the primary school; “It looks wonderful, oh I hope you get in, Olivia, remember best behaviour!”
Inside they were greeted by the deputy head; “Mr and Mrs Chantry, welcome.  You must be Olivia.”
Olivia hid behind Sally’s legs.
Sally smiled; “So pleased to meet you, Mrs Evans, call me Sally.”

 

Mrs Evans didn’t volunteer her first name, she led the way round the school, showing them classrooms full of busy looking children who were learning to read and write.

 “What’s in there?” Sean asked pointing to a red door.
Mrs Evans smiled and opened the door obligingly.  Olivia gasped.  Inside were all her favourite toys, My Little Ponies, Shopkins, Moshi Monsters, the Baby Annabel range, all that a she could want.  The girls in there were wearing Disney Princess dresses and dipping Marshmallows into a chocolate fountain.  The boys played with Lego or ran around the place, there didn’t seem to be anyone telling them to pay attention and they weren’t doing any of the boring school work the other children had been doing.  Mrs Evans shut the door again.
“What was that?” Sally asked.
“Oh, that’s the playroom for the one per cent,” Mrs Evans replied, “when are you five, Olivia?”
“In December,” Sean answered.
“You’ll be starting with us in September,” she said smiling.
Sally’s face broke into an enormous grin; “So, she’s in?”
“Of course,” Mrs Evans said.
 

Olivia talked a lot about the playroom she’d seen, Sally had to constantly remind her she was going to school to learn.  After the first week Olivia complained of having to read and write all day and not getting to play in that playroom.

“I’m sure you’ll turn will come,” Sally reassured her.
“They say it’s just for the one per cent,” Oliva replied.
“That can’t be right.  Now remember we’re going to the beach on Saturday.”
“After your home-work,” Sean smiled, remembering that Mrs Evans had told them the children were given spelling tests and writing to do at weekends.

Olivia began her home work at 9am on Saturday morning, Sean tested her spelling, there seemed to be word after word after word and poor Olivia was getting tired.  At 11am they still weren’t finished, Olivia was writing a paragraph about her home, then another about her favourite things and another about her favourite colour.
“This isn’t right,” Sally said to Sean, “so many words to spell, how many were there?  Thirty?”
“Ten for me, ten for Emma and ten for Charlotte,” reported Olivia, rubbing her aching hand.
“What?  Are you doing homework for other children?” asked Sean.
“Yes, the story about colours is for Charlotte and the story about favourite things is for Emma.”
“I’m putting a stop to that!” exclaimed Sally.
 

Monday morning Sally marched into Mrs Evans’ office.  “Why is my daughter doing homework for Charlotte and Emma?”

“Charlotte and Emma are members of the one percent.  The one percent don’t get homework, they do just what they feel like doing.  We share their work out among the others.”
“But – I don’t get it, when is it Olivia’s turn to be in the one per cent?”
Mrs Evans laughed; “Your child?  In the one per cent?  I’m sorry Mrs Chantry, you’re dreaming …”
“So, it’s the same children all the time in the one per cent?  And Olivia will never go into the playroom?”
“That’s right.”
“But that’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Mrs Chantry and we teach the children that from an early age.”