The Henhouse

I opened the door (first day of class). 50 hens and one rooster.

Immediately one stood out with an air of leadership and started giving orders: you sit here, you there. Everyone had an opinion about how class could be held with so many people, who had to leave, who didn't, etc.

The teacher arrived, a look of surprise on her face. How are we going to work with so many? Impossible. The peacemaker speaks up: "They could set up another class, on a different day and time." All the hens cackle together and at once: "I can't, I have other classes," "I like this schedule," "I chose it because of the teacher," "We're a group and we can't change and we don't want to be split up," and on it goes... Impossible to reach an understanding. Up comes the one who believes she has acquired rights: "We've been here 3 years, let the new ones leave." Out comes the defender of the underdogs: "Here we all have the same rights." End of class. A solution to think over.

Second day. The rooster bolted (poor thing), leaving the field clear for the hens.

New proposals, groups form among those who know each other and in each one there's a leader who represents them. They meet at the bar and the dance goes on.

Meanwhile many hens abandon the henhouse and look for another henhouse, others are shy and don't say anything.

The henhouse ends up decimated. Final solution: 2 parallel classes with the teachers alternating. The henhouse calms down but there's always someone, under their breath, still cackling. I, as an experienced hen, watch, fold in my wings, and wait.

Thanks to my dear little hens.