The Tattle-Pail

Chinook Fry

Chinook Fry

Tattle-tale titmouse laid an egg in my house.

Having grown tired of hearing her students tattle on each other, Anne has instituted what I like to call the “tattle pail”. It is really more of a basket, but I like the alliteration of pail. Any student with a grievance can drop a note in the pail, finger the guilty, but most importantly alleviate Anne from their constant tattling. When she introduced this concept to the class, she used as an example two wholly fictional characters: “Joey, farted and didn’t say excuse me – Sally.”

Another institution has come to remind me of late, of some of the immature behavior exhibited by some of her students. I’m speaking of the stock market. At the end of last year the Fed raised interest rates for the first time in years and the market had a fit, “This is hard. I can’t do it. I don’t like paying interest. I like free money instead.” First it was the interest rate bump, then it was the Chinese and then oil. The maturity level of the brokers, financiers and other titans of industry is appalling. If they don’t shape up, I’m going to have to send them all to the buddy room and they won’t like that.

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