Thank you for correcting the text in this article. Your corrections improve Papers Past searches for everyone. See the latest corrections.

This article contains searchable text which was automatically generated and may contain errors. Join the community and correct any errors you spot to help us improve Papers Past.

Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image

CHILDREN AND ROYAL VISIT

(To the Editor.)

Sir,—Wo have read with pleasure tht sensible arrangements made tor the viait of Their Kuyai Jrlignii'-'sses the Duke and Duchess of i'ork--n event most parents, would look lorward to enjoying were it not lor the anxiety at the back of our minis thai, as ou previous occasions, our chamen may quite unintentionally b» nnulu to stand too long in too hot a sun. It is stated that ouce grown-up, we forget what it is like to be a child. No doubt there is much truth in this assertion, seeing that an hour, which passes like a Hash for the aduit, may represent many years of torture to a child. For the grown-up, a civic reception or tha like (ii aiuuvsed) consists of several stages, namely!—(a) Some mild anticipation oi seeing personages one lias always read about, (.b) The arrival on. the scene of notion. To choose a suitable shady spot v.herefrom to view the proceedings, (cj Momentary excitement when the function commences, which coincides with the sinking into seats of tha chief dignitaries of the city, to listen to the ensuing speeches, during which the average individual, if so inclined, can retire quietly if bored or overcome by heat, (d) The springing hastily to one's feet for the National Anthem, followed by a dispersal of the crowd, wherein tha optimists say how well everything went off, and the pessimists point out defects they have been busily noticing during the speech-making, (c) The final journey homo, marking the end of the civic reception for the adult, though it may only be the beginning of hours of anxiety and worry for the teacher or parent, who has to cope with overtired and fractious, if not sick, children. To analyse the child's point of view, wo have to start the day. previous to the recoption, and 'picture the child wild with excitement at the thought of the following day's thrills, retiring to bed, whera dreams peopled by princes and persons in uniform are mixed up with less pleasant pictures, as the over-tired brain fights for peace. Comes the next morning, full of unusual events, which in many cases means a long train or car ride. Then, after a meal (which an excitable' child will not digest properly) conies th> hurried rush to the spot from whence the function will be witnessed —a site allotted previously as ■ conveniently away from traffic, and not interfering with any martial display, though quite possibly on tha hottest side o£ tho street, with no protection from the sun. Then comes the wait —quite possibly over an hour, during which the tired little souls crowded amongst other children ' from other schools, shuffle disconsolately from one foot to the other and feel strung up and overheated,- at which stage, if consulted, the majority would probably prefer nothing better than a quiet rest and sleep. Tha advent of Royalty may awaken a general jostling and excitement, during which ths smallest get squeezed by the largest. Then follow the speeches, which spell slow torture to those who have stood al« ready so long, though those in seats probably wonder why children can't keep still. The sun seems to come nearer and nearer; the air to get less and less, at which stag, if not before, tho first child faiatei Copied by many others as time goes on. This is where mental torture begins for teachers and others in charge of children. Fingering smelling salts in their pockets, they cast anxious glances at the most likely offenders. Whispering hurried instructions to "stand as comfortably as you can, Mary," or "sit down if you feel giddy, Jane." And easting impatient glances towards the platform from whence the rounded periods flow in an ever endless stream. About which time the big boys and girls (of sixteen and over) from sheer over tension begin to go down like ninepins. Is it to be wondered at that those in charge privately sigh with relief when tha National Anthem'terminates the proceedings. Though even then the children's day is not over; they have to wait until their bus or train starts, arriving home so tired and upset that the pother receiving her weary offspring decides to put her foot down against such proceedings for the future. Perhaps I may be accused of painting too gloomy a picture; but if thereby it awakens those in authority to see that all young people, be they schoolchildren, college students, members of Scouts, Guides, or other movements are put in a shady spot to witness the events and allowed to sit all the time except at actual opening of the civic reception and during the National Anthem (if a suitable spot to sit cannot be found they ar« better away). Perhaps then, oh, patient Editor, you will forgive my having taken up so much space in your paper.—l am, etc.,

PERRINE MONCRIEFR, 24th November.

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/EP19261130.2.44.6

Bibliographic details

Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 131, 30 November 1926, Page 8

Word Count
818

CHILDREN AND ROYAL VISIT Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 131, 30 November 1926, Page 8

CHILDREN AND ROYAL VISIT Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 131, 30 November 1926, Page 8

Help

Log in or create a Papers Past website account

Use your Papers Past website account to correct newspaper text.

By creating and using this account you agree to our terms of use.

Log in with RealMe®

If you’ve used a RealMe login somewhere else, you can use it here too. If you don’t already have a username and password, just click Log in and you can choose to create one.


Log in again to continue your work

Your session has expired.

Log in again with RealMe®


Alert