End of the roll

I am at the end of the roll*. Always have been. Probably always will be. It isn’t really the bane of my life, but it does bug me sometimes. Today, the last day of my primary schooling, I made a remark about it.

I got a few laughs. The girl who was always at the end of the roll before I came said thanks. Then a sympathetic remark from my teacher.

“Don’t worry (my name), when you get married and change your name, you won’t be at the end of any list.”

Not quite the sympathy I was expecting.

*The roll is the list that is called out in class at the start of the day. It has everybody’s name on it, and the teacher reads out the names, and the person whose name is read out answers with ‘here’ or ‘yes’. If there is no answer, then the student is marked as absent.


About Ursa

Ursa is a teenager who is a feminist, and doesn't like stereotypes about ages. She likes reading and 'The Gilmore Girls' and is owned by her cat.
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2 Responses to End of the roll

  1. How old was the teacher?

    Of course, as late as the 1980s here in Oz, girls were required to wear dresses to school, regardless of cold winters or windy days. Without an internet, pro-trousers campaigns stayed local and had little impact. It wasn’t until the 1990s that most schools changed to allowing trousers for girls

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