A Study of Hens

'How's back to school going?' I ask.

My writing room has been taken over by hens diligently doing their homework. There's barely any elbow room on my desk, and it's a big desk, having once been the family dining table, seating for eight.

'It's going very well,' says Miggins. 'My Einstein pencil case has been very much admired.'
'I don't see why we have to do so much Maths,' sighs Mrs Slocombe. 'I mean, I can count already and can't possibly see what use the logarithmic function or Cartesian co-ordinates are going to be to me in the future.'
'Now Mrs Slocombe,' I say, 'you know your counting can be a bit random sometimes.'
'I disagree,' says Mrs Slocombe. 'My way of counting suits my purposes exactly. One egg, two eggs, three eggs, another egg, one more egg and then one for luck makes two large sponge cakes.'
'It doesn't exactly expand your mind to the mass enquiry that Mathematics demands, does it though?' I say.
'What's she talking about?' whispers Mrs Slocombe to Mrs Miggins. Mrs Miggins shrugs.
'Beats me,' she says. 'She teaches English. Verbal diarrhoea.'
'Is that how you spell it?' says Slocombe.
'I believe so,' says Miggins.
'And you didn't even need to look it up in the dictionary,' says Slocombe.
'I play a lot of Scrabble,' says Miggins.
'Please don't whisper,' I say. 'It's very bad manners, you know.'

'How's your Geography?' says Mrs Pumphrey, who can sense a fracas brewing and decides to employ diversionary tactics. She bats her globe of the world with her wing.
'Not a strong point, I'm afraid,' I say, 'and neither is Chemistry, but let's not change the subject. Ahahahahahahahahahaha!!!'

Three sets of beady eyes stare at me across the table.

'Anyway,' says Miggins, when the stare has had its desired calming effect and I am once more subdued into knowing my place in this hallowed place of learning, 'it's not all hard work and no play at the Aristotle Plato Hencademy. We've joined several after-school clubs.'
'Really?' I say. 'And what would they be?'
'Well,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'I have joined the Drama Group and Dress Design For Awkward Shapes...'
'And I've joined the debating society,' says Miggins. 'This week we debated woodchucks. And how much wood they would chuck if they could chuck wood.'
'And what was the outcome?' I ask
'23 tonnes,' says Miggins. 'And a twig.'
'And what about you, Mrs Slocombe?' I say. 'What extra-curricula activity have you joined?'
'Carpentry,' says Mrs Slocombe. 'The project for this term is Build-a-Garden-Observatory. I thought I'd get a head start on Andy's Christmas present.'
'He'll love it,' I say. 'But I'm not sure where we're going to put it. Unless we've moved house by then.'
'Oh it'll fit easily into our current back garden,' says Mrs S. 'Basically, it's a box with a hole in the top that fits on your head.'
'Which is what you meant by getting a head start?' I say.
'What else?' says Slocombe.

'I see,' I say.
'Well,' says Mrs Slocombe. 'I'm lacking in the Mathematical skills to make the full size version.'
'Any chance of milk and cookies? To aid the learning process.'

'Yours or mine?' I sigh.