Controlled Scribbling

First Day of School

I was so excited knowing school was about to start. It had been an enjoyable summer, but there was something special about getting twenty-some kids of my age in one room. Mom wouldn't let more than two of my friends in the house at a time. There wouldn't be enough cookies anyway. Today something was terribly wrong. I was wearing all my new school clothes with crisp edges and I had all my new pencils that had never been sharpened. I had my box of crayons, it wasn't as big as some of the kids but that wasn't the problem - My uncle showed me some tricks to make more colors than I actually had. The school bus had come to the same corner as last year, half-full like always. The ride had been the same, we stopped at all the usual stops. Everyone was excited about the first day of school. When we arrived at school we were directed to our new room. It was further down the hall than last year because every year they move you further down the hall until you run out of rooms; then they send you to another school. The room did not have any big wooden boxes filled with toys or canvas bags stuffed with building blocks. I couldn't figure out where the toys were and it seemed to be a mystery to the teacher as well. There were too many desks; they went from wall to wall in every direction and they made us sit in them for a long time. The teacher didn't understand what we were there for. She didn't make any effort to find the canvas bags or the big wooden boxes. She spoke gibberish like my baby sister and acted like she was making perfect sense. She made us sit for a long time at our desks. She wouldn't let us use our crayons and didn't bring us any paint. We sat for a long time as she went on and on about a new year and how wonderful everything was. It wasn't wonderful. She made us sit forever at our desks. She was clearly insane. She didn't understand how schools operate. Finally, lunch came and they brought us milk. I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich my mom packed me. It was raining so we couldn't go outside and they made us eat at our desks. I hate my desk. After lunch was more of the same. This torture ended not a moment too soon with the ringing of the three o'clock bell. I put my unused crayons back in my school bag and trudged off to the bus. The bus ride home was slow like the day. The rain slowly fell out of the pale, gray sky. When I got home my mom greeted me with a smile and asked how my day was. I tried to explain but when I started to think it all into words it made me cry. The more I thought, the more I wanted to tell her. I couldn't because it was all I could do to breathe through my crying. She hugged me and put me to bed to nap. She told me everything would be okay. She would never understand the torture they put me through. I cried and cried and cried and finally fell asleep.