Classic

Sixth Grader, Levin, a Russian kid who fits that nation's stereotype in that he is barking mad, came up to me at the end of class on Thursday. I thought he might be about to explain away his missing homework.

Previously Levin has revealed to me that he has been to Scotland on a world cruise on his dad's yacht, where his dad bought him a set a bagpipes. And that his dad is in Peru mining for gold, but "that my father is very no talk hush hush about his job so if-anybody-asks you just say businessman - good?"

He is, indeed, like an 11-year-old Bond baddie. To illustrate, he sits at the back of class, his back to me, in a large leather swivel chair, stroking an evil looking cat. Previous excuses for missing homework have included, "It is lost in my father's underground layer", "I could tell you but then I would have to kill you" and, "Odd Job ate it, Sir."

Anyway, I digress. Thursday, end of class:

- Sir... a question. Is there a Best Teacher of the School award?

- Sorry, what's that, Levin?

- I am for asking if there is an Award for The Best Teacher Award... in the Secondary or in the whole school?

- Er, no, not as far as I am aware, Timur.
- We had these Awards in the Primary, Sir. They were very good.
- Yeah?

- Well, there should be an Award Sir. You would definitely win it.

- Well, thanks Levin, you're very kind.
- You would definitely win it, Sir... it would be an easy win. For being the best teacher.   

Pause. Levin goes on. 

- Now, Sir, about my homework... 

And I didn't even see it coming.