Works

I hold up a yellow pencil: 'What's this?'
Eventually it is determined that we're looking at a yellow pencil. Up goes a blue ruler: 'What's this?'
'It's a ...Grjooooooooooojshhh...' A loud drill, nearby.

We stop. The entire group of tiny kids, bundled up in their winter coats, sit still, frozen, with the most comical looks on their faces: curiosity, alarm, a dash of excitement.

The drill continues. I try to say something above it: mumble-mumble-mmmh. They don't hear a thing, nor do they seem to be in a mood to listen anymore. Grand.

I have a look along the corridor: workers in blue overalls drill the walls outside the classroom. As they're drilling, they're having a good look at us through the windows above the doors. On their faces: curiosity, a dash of excitement. They too are catching a glimpse of an alien world (and my magic touch, naturelment).

'What are you doing?' I ask.
Installing smoke alarms, it appears. 'In case of fire' – they hasten to specify.
'Has there ever been any fire?'
'No.'
Pause.
'But the law.'
Pause.
'Requires.'
Then, demonstrative, shrill, neverending:
' Grjooooooooooojshhh... zzzzzzzzzzooooooooojjjjjj'.

So there.
I go back into the classroom and we sing a big long loud song.