These are stories about me and my past, some define me and some are just … well….random.
1. I once broke my teacher’s leg.*
I, of course, can explain. We had a pet bird in our first grade class. It was a great honor to be chosen as the bird’s caretaker for the day. I’m not sure what the criteria was for that very special, oh so sought after job, but apparently I didn’t have the qualifications. Perhaps you had to able to spell neighbor….my friend Allen could spell neighbor and he had been chosen 4 times.
As the bird’s helper, you had three jobs:
1. Feed the bird
2. Sit by the bird during reading time (you know to keep it company so you didn’t, I mean IT, didn’t get bored)
3. In case of a fire alarm, it was your job to take the bird outside with you. Consequently this meant you had to be last in line so that you could pick up the cage, bring it outside, all the while staying out of everyone else’s way. Fire drills were rare, and so far that year no one had gotten to take the class bird outside.
Imagine my excitement to learn that I had been chosen. Visions of my astounding bird keeping work swirled in my head. I would be the very best bird whisperer Mrs.Teacher had ever seen. I would feed the bird at exactly 10:00, I would keep it very quiet during reading time……
and then……
you guessed it….
we had a fire alarm.
Everyone RAN in an orderly fashion to the door to line up. All the while, Mrs. Teacher gave commands. “Everyone line up”…………..”Leave your work”…………..”Leave your backpacks”……………”No it doesn’t matter if they burn, your Mother can buy new ones, but she can’t buy a new YOU”……..Hands to yourself…….Annaka you are in charge of the bird, you know what to do…….
and I did. I knew that I was to remain behind. The last to leave. I would save the class bird, or go down trying.
However, it was a very long time to wait. I put my elbows on the desk behind me and my feet up on the bird case, just until the line started moving. Yet the only thing moving was Mrs. Teacher. She continued shouting commands as she walked backward….right over my very comfortably draped legs.
I’m not really sure what happened next, but when I got home, my Mom told me the Mrs. Teacher had broken her femur. Yes, I, a 6 year old, had broken the largest bone in a person’s body. I called and apologized to my teacher that night. She didn’t take it well and abruptly got off the phone.
Walking down the hall later that week I became aware that two teachers walked behind me. I could hear them whispering that I was the ONE who BROKE Mrs. Teacher’s leg. Gossip spreads quickly in the Teacher Workroom.
I learned to spell neighbor that year, but I was never again the Class Bird Helper.
*some names and faces have been changed to protect the innocent:)