Make-up girls powder our cheeks,
brighten us up to face the world.
Our subject – education.

We are the new craftsmen.
We smile when there's no cause,
interrupt when a sentence ends,
never indulge in hesitation.

The old teacher performs badly.
He's nervous, speaks behind his hand.
He's soon reduced to silence.

Then just before we finish
he suddenly starts to speak
quietly, with such conviction
we dare not interfere.

He talks about his teaching,
but his words don't matter.
We see the man, his honesty.

As we step over cables,
relaxed now, chattering,
the anchor man tells