When I was in the very early stages of my school life I shared a desk with a boy called Matthew and a boy called Neil.
We drew pictures a lot. Really cool ones, I recall, using the inside cut out bit of a protractor to make aztec-y men/monsters.
We were not allowed to draw all the time as we had other things to do. Like learning to read I guess, I don’t remember.
So after spending some time drawing, the teacher (Mrs Campbell? Very likely dead now) would call time and ask us to get our books out.
This would make us sad.
Neil and I persuaded Matthew to ask if we could draw some more, just this once. He did and he was rebuked; he had failed us.
We made him ask again. Some flippant remark about after we’d finished the task at hand form the teacher gave us hope. We rushed through it and then sent Matthew to ask again.
She releneted. Matthew came back to the desk like a war hero, freshly escaped form enemy hands. We got out our drawing things.
But no. The teacher came over and said that only matthew could draw as he had been the one to ask so nicely, and so often.
Looking back I guess maybe she was teaching us a more valuable lesson or maybe she was just aware that our pushing of Matthew was too strong.