A true story

Entry posted by MagitekAngel August 28, 2009

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Boy sits in first grade class, crosses his legs, scratches his armpits. Uncomfortable. Hasn’t caused enough trouble today. Already finished the assigned exercise. Boy is finished before everyone else because he learned to read and write when he was one and a half. That gives him two or three years more practice than everyone else in the room. Boy doesn’t like that he’s the best reader because that makes him different from the other kids. Boy pretends he can’t read. Gets stuck on “cat,” “car,” “bug.” Boy doesn’t want to express himself through reading, so boy causes trouble behind the teacher’s back whenever he can, not realizing this makes him just as different as being able to read. Boy looks at the homework that he knows he’s going to get perfect on. Tears off a strip. Eats it. Tastes terrible. Resolves not to try again. Boy gets up to sharpen his pencil, notices the stapler on the shelf. Picks it up. Plays with it. Accidentally releases the spring mechanism. Click. Stares at hand. Stapled his thumb. Very good stapling job, teacher would be proud, if only on paper. Blood is starting to rise from the punctured digit. Boy isn’t in pain, merely curious. Squeezes thumb to see how much blood will come out. Stands in the corner of the classroom for several minutes, holds thumb in the air, tries to dry it into a large scab around the buried staple. Remains there until teacher notices boy is out of desk, sees the wound, turns white. Not sure whether to send boy to school nurse or school principal. Resolves to do both, first nurse, than principal. Boy continues to stare at his thumb in detached amusement. Mission accomplished.

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