The Moral Dilemma of the Tooth Fairy

In the three weeks that I have been working in a school I have had some interesting conversations with the kids about faith and religion. They have some pretty deep conversations – for example “did humans evolve or were they made from mud?”, “how could Mary also be God?” You know, just your standard topics for seven year olds.

But the other day I was asked one of the most serious questions of all and I had no idea what to say.

“Rachel, is the Tooth Fairy real?”

Five innocent faces turned to me awaiting confirmation of their argument that the Tooth Fairy is either real or your parents.

Such an innocent question that sparked a major Moral Dilemma and blind panic.

What was I supposed to say?

I had to either confirm a lie or destroy a belief in a kindly fairy that takes away your teeth that have fallen out and replaces it with money.

I had the opportunity to stand up for the Tooth Truth and defeat some of the lies adults needlessly tell children. The downside being it would probably make some kids cry and their parents very angry (although in the long run not having to give their kid money for every tooth would save them atleast £20).

Was this child asking me because they thought that as an adult I would tell them the truth? Or were they just asking me because I happened to be there at the time?

Cue the major soul searching. Did I want to lie? Did I want to crush their dreams?

In the end I totally wimped out and said “Well, the tooth fairy always visited me when I was young”. I mean, I had just sat there in their science lesson and not said anything about how the evolution of dinosaurs from lizards was more of an opinion rather than a fact, even though it’s taught as one.

I had better start prepping my answer to the Father Christmas question.

The Trials of Walking to Work

So, here we are, at the end of my first half term holiday. I have decided that half term is one of the greatest things ever. 

The school I work at is only a 35 minute walk away (30 minute brisk walk if I decided that I couldn't live without an extra 5 in bed)  and so I've set myself the challenge of walking to and from school four out of the five days I'm there. When I tell people this they sound amazed but I'm sure the tube/bus would take longer and so by walking I'm actually taking the lazier option that means I get to spend more time asleep.This walking commute has revealed to me a number of things, one of which is the lack of trust I have in my fellow Londoners:

I do not trust cyclists – they seem to think that they are above the Highway Code and so stopping at red lights are optional, even when they’re going at a million miles an hour and there are pedestrians (who have patiently waited for the green man) trying to cross the road. Suffice to say I have become an expert in diving out of the way of said cyclists while giving them a Death Stare that I hope conveys some of the contempt I have for them – in a loving Jesus way of course.

I do not trust motorbikes - you never know if it’s safe to cross or if they’ll nip round from behind a lorry and run you over.

I do not trust cars - when so many roads meet at a junction its impossible to watch every car to see if it’s likely to run straight toward you.

I do not trust pedestrian crossings - with traffic coming from 5 different directions how do I know that its got it right?

I do not trust that the guy reading a book as he walks down the road (just like Belle from Beauty and the Beast) will not walk into me.

All in all, if you aim to reach work without being run over there are many things to avoid and look out for (but don't worry mum, just in case I do get run over I make sure that my underwear matches). And so ultimately  I don't trust my own judgements when it comes to crossing roads. It's a miracle that I don't spend the whole day walking round and round the block.