Elephants and toenails

There are silly questions and silly questions.  At school we were always told to ask silly questions because often they extract the most useful information.  But most of us did not want to ask those questions because they were, well, silly.  And if we dared to ask them we were told we were plain stupid.  But there are many such questions I now wish that I had asked; no time for regrets. 

There are some questions that make you suddenly sit up and wonder about a whole lot of things.  For example, I recall my four year old child asking me:  “Daddy, do elephants have toenails?”

Now a question like that is a truly original question.  I knew immediately nobody had ever asked me that before.  I also knew that I had never thought about it myself and could only guess at an answer.  My presumption was, yes, they do have toenails and certainly pictures of elephants show what appear to be toenails on their hooves.  The trouble is, when you are put on the spot by a four year old, you might be able to picture an elephant in general – but you can’t see its feet!

You can be pedantic and say that they cannot have toenails since they do not have toes.  I didn’t know at the time whether that was true or not (in fact, expert pachydermopodiatrist opinion is that they do have toes).  Anyway, I mentally thrust that aside and told my offspring that elephants do, indeed, have toenails.  What effect that answer had on his mental development I do not know but it does not seem to have done any harm.

I loved his question and recall my delight when I heard it.  I even used it, that same day, to introduce a presentation I was giving.  It seemed to fall flat.  I realise now, years later, it was because individual members of the audience were trying to picture elephants themselves, but they couldn’t see their feet!

Another question was asked by my eight year old some months later.  We were, by then, living on a farm and every walk around the property brought exposure to new collections of droppings left by kangaroos, wombats, etc.  (interestingly, you might have noticed yourself that  wombats pass fashionably square droppings, rather like gambling dice; just what are they doing down their burrows?).  Anyway, she asked: “Daddy, do snakes do poo?”

That question had the same effect on me as the pachyderm toenails.  This time I knew whom to ask.  I have a friend in Adelaide who has written books on excrement; well, concerning excrement.  I sent Rob an e-mail and he came back with all the information one might wish to know about the excretory habits of snakes.  It appears snakes exude their excrement as a sort of layer underneath, very much like worms, as they slither along.  I understood then why I had been unable to find any snake droppings in all my travels over our land, despite some serious serpents I have seen on it.

Both those questions have been outclassed since by a question asked by a parent at a at a parent-teacher morning I attended.  One mother stunned the group with the question:  “Does the school have a policy on rainbow braces?”

At first I thought she might be referring to trouser-supporting-in-dowdy-late-middle-aged-men-braces or trouser-supporting-in-young-male-trendoids-braces but then I realised, as she was pointing helpfully to her own teeth, or what was left of them, she meant orthodontic braces.  The teacher was caught off-balance for a short time.  Nothing in her training had prepared her for this one. 

I was impressed by way she recovered saying that the school, although not having formulated a final policy on rainbow-coloured orthodontic braces (henceforth abbreviated as RCOBs), did not approve of them in principle, and would prepare something in writing in the near future (just don’t hold your breath or, in the case of the parent in question, please hold your breath).  I think that was just confabulation but it seemed to satisfy the questioner.  It shut her up for a while and that was a blessing.

Afterwards, I realised I had been exposed to another one of those watershed questions and that I would always remember that parent-teacher meeting for that one question.  The question itself answered several other questions I had never bothered to ask myself, such as:

• Are there such things as a rainbow-coloured orthodontic braces?  Yes, the questioner was saying.  Why in heaven’s name one would wish to wear RCOBs was, for me, implied but unanswered.
• Do these present a problem at school?  Yes, the questioner was saying.  What this problem might be was left unanswered; I hesitated to venture such a stupid question.  I did pick up an oblique reference to the idea that RCOBs were far more expensive than standard issue and might be seen as a form of ostentation or conspicuous consumption by fellow students.
• Should schools have policies about RCOBs?  Yes, the questioner was saying and if the school did not have a policy it was clearly behind the times.  The parent was showing herself as intellectually and morally superior.  She had considered this weighty matter and had come to an independent decision. There was disapproval in her tone.  We were all being judged.

If you want to check out how mentally nimble your child’s teacher is, ask the RCOB question at your next parent-teacher gathering – preferably in front of lots of other people so that he or she is under pressure.  You will be seen to be the trend-setter, bringing matters of vital public interest into view.  If the teacher caves in on that one then deliver a coup de grace with an apparently innocent question about whether elephants have toenails.  You will be assured of instant recognition at any future school gathering.  Perhaps leave the one about snake droppings; it might seem eccentric.

Should such an important matter as RCOBs be left to individual schools?  It is a heavy responsibility.  Something needs to be done at state or federal level; maybe an amendment to the constitution (although we all know how successful those have been over the years).

Personally, I have not come to a final conclusion as to whether wearing of RCOBs is a good or a bad thing.  But if it is ostentation that was of concern to the parent-questioner a few other policies need to be formulated.  For example:

• No student should be dropped off at school in an expensive car.  Outlawed would be the BMWs, the Audis, the Alfa Romeos, and parents would be reduced to scrounging for an old FJ Holden in which to transport their offspring.  This would send the cost of FJ Holdens through the roof and a follow-up policy or a codicil to the first (if that is the correct term), would have to be issued prohibiting FJ Holdens.  Then we would see dilapidated old VWs being resurrected and so on.
• No student should wear a new school uniform; only second-hand uniforms are permissible.  Well, that policy would create a few logistic problems but, with the support of such parents as the RCOB questioner, maybe it would succeed.  Not sure how.

There are fertile grounds here for the policymakers.  The policies would have to be preceded by discussion documents and then followed by implementation strategies; veritable heaven for a bureaucrat.  I think it might be more productive to go back to wondering whether elephants have toenails.