The issue of specs

Tuesday, September 17 08

Miss Megan Bennet was finding her new routine tough. She was used to having a say in what clothes she wore for the day. Now she had no choice apart from grey trousers or grey skirt. She hadn't realise this school business would be every day and she wasn’t sure she liked it. After her sobbing entry on the first day, the tears had subsided, fingers were out of the mouth and the limpet’s suction removed. Having almost completed a week, Miss Megan Bennet was bouncing in confidently and it made leaving her a much happier event for Mrs Bennet. But one issue was troubling both Miss Megan and Mrs Bennet – the issue of spectacles. The tiny delicate pink-framed glasses, which this dimple-faced Bennet number three wore so well, had been part of Megan’s life since she was 17 months old. At one, her noticeable squint had raised a few concerns and various orthoptist appointments diagnosed long-sightedness in both eyes. The prognosis: a possible operation and specs for life, but the option of contact lenses when appearance mattered in the teen years. If any of the Miss Bennets were to have a problem with sight, this sweet-natured, accommodating child was the right one. She sat perfectly still in examinations and for six weeks wore a patch on her good eye (three hours a day) without complaining, largely because Mrs Bennet made matching left-eye patches for every doll in the Bennet household. Miss Bennet hardly ever took her glasses off, only to be cleaned or if she knew she was dropping off. She accepted her accessory.
School changed all that. On her first day, Miss Bennet relayed how one of the little boys in her class had pushed her glasses into her face with his hand. ("Why do children do that?" thought Mrs Bennet angrily) As soon as Miss Bennet had finished her morning classroom session, she took her specs off and refused to wear them. Later when piling into the Scooby Doo Van with her sisters she remarked:
“Mummy, why do I have to wear glasses and Naomi and Emily don’t?”
Mrs Bennet was about to give a sensitive reply, when the eldest Miss Bennet, without tact, did it for her.
“That’s because we can see better than you.”
If Mr Bennet had made such a comment – which he wouldn’t have done – she would have poked him. As it was her daughter, she gave her the look, which spoke a hundred words. The daughter didn’t need an interpretation.
Mrs Bennet managed to sooth her bespectacled-child. But the problem arose again the following day when she came out of the classroom, this time holding a scroll of white paper, with her glasses wrapped up inside.
“I fell over and broke them Mummy. And now I won’t be able to see,” explained the tearful girl, although probably enjoying the fact she looked like everyone else.
A reassuring hug from Mrs Bennet soothed the hurt. The teaching assistant reported how the children had just had a story about a dinosaur who couldn’t see and needed glasses. Mrs Bennet received this as her reassuring hug. Miss Megan would be well cared for, and though she was the only four-year-old wearing specs, so too was she the only one who matched her teacher – the lovely surrogate mother.