The first day of school is always exciting, with children glad to be back in a routine, to see their friends and meet new ones, the room buzzing with the newness of the school year and its shiny floors, polished desks, and new school supplies, but on the second day of school, the teacher has figured out the dynamic of the classroom, which child can be trusted to run an errand to the office, which one would be hiding a library book behind a text book, which one can't be seated next to anyone because they will talk to everyone, and which one needed to be in the center front of the room where the teacher could keep an eye on them at all times.
Jeffrey was a cute little guy, big blue eyes, blond curls, stiff, new blue jeans and a plaid shirt purchased for his first day of first grade, but the teacher realized within minutes on that first day of school that he was a live one, messing with his crayon box, turning backwards in his seat dozens of times, hiding small objects in his pockets, and he would need to be seated where she could keep a constant watch on him.
And then it was the second day, the excitement of the first day giving way to the routines that would be established for the rest of the school year, and the teacher was working with her first graders on a math lesson, walking up and down the aisles, checking on her students' understanding of the concept, but as she returned to the front of the room and glanced towards Jeffrey, sitting front and center, a flash of white in his mouth caught her attention.
"What's in your mouth?!" she asked, and when Jeffrey held up his jar of paste to show her, his teacher cried, "Get rid of it!" and was horrified when, instead of going to the wastebasket and spitting it out, he gulped and swallowed it.
"What were you DOING?" she cried, and he answered cheerfully, "I was trying to glue my mouth shut!"
"If I thought that would work, I would have tried it yesterday," his teacher grumbled, and as they headed down the hallway together, the teacher knew this was going to be the first of many visits Jeffrey would make to the principal's office, and she was right.
Linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge's Blog for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "lead."
The Jeffreys of this world have a difficult time fitting their square selves into the round holes society carves and says they need to be in.
ReplyDeleteThe Jeffreys can be both rewarding and exhausting!
DeleteMimi just said in a few words what countless, meaningless brochures of inclusivity cannot.
ReplyDeleteDyanne, perhaps it only because of your ability as a writer but I would be surprised if you weren't involved with teaching at some point.
All the nuances of first graders and their crossing of the threshold into school life are so on point.
You guessed correctly! In fact, this is a true story!
DeleteIt took until, like the sixth grade, for me to learn that 'homeroom' was not spelled 'PRINCIPAL'
ReplyDeleteI'm not surprised you were that kid!
DeletePerhaps Jeffrey was only trying to respond to the refrain he had probably heard repeated by adults throughout his life.
ReplyDeleteI guess you could safely say he was a curious child
DeleteWonderfully humorous!
ReplyDelete