Write a story or poem of5 Lines or Lessusing the word school Link back to this post If you are on WordPress this will create a pingback.
If you are not on WordPress put a link to your post in the comments.
You can also post your Five Lines or Less in the comments. Visit those who link their, In Other Words, post here.
All summer she heard about what fun school was
and all the wonderful things she would learn and do.
Then the big day was here.
First day of school…ever.
Right from the first day the little girl knew
this was one of those things that adults
don’t tell the whole truth about.
They don’t lie but they make it seem something
other than what it really is.
1) you have to get up early… really this isn’t a good thing
2) you have to hurry…no lolligagging…but
rushing is not how mornings are meant to be
Then once at school the “not quite the truth” continues
3) you have to sit where the teacher wants you to…even if it isn’t by a window
4) you have to stay in your seat… but sometimes you just need to wander around
5) you have to listen even when the lesson is boring…and it is often boring
6) you can’t talk unless you raise your hand first and
then you can only talk about the “subject”…even if you have something great to say
7) you have to stay until the teacher says you can go,..that is nonsense,
maybe there is something interesting happening in the hall or outside…
you can’t even go to the bathroom without “permission”
And the really horrible thing is
8) you have to go to school whether you want to or not…unless you are sick…
you know sometimes you need a day off just because
And the most horrible terrible awful unbelievable of all
9) there is, counting kindergarten, at least 13 years of this.
School was okay.
There were fun new things everyday.
And there was so much to learn.
It was exciting!
But still there was that “you have to go to school everyday” rule.
The little girl realized why schools have fences around them.
They are prisons.
I have a memory of when I was in the fourth grade that to this day makes me laugh every time I think of it. And I think of it often. My best friend, Linda, sat next to me in class. We were good students and were pretty well-behaved so our desks being side by side was not a problem. We did occasionally get to talking, as girls will, and need reminding of where we were and that talking in class was not acceptable.
One day, we weren’t talking, but Linda was having trouble of some sort and kind of had her head down. I heard her say, “Patty”,and let me tell you she is one of only two people who have ever gotten away with calling me Patty. Anyway, she said, “Patty what am I going to do?” I asked what was wrong and she looked at me and said, “I have a button stuck in my nose!” Well, I was pretty surprised but sure enough she had a button stuck in her nose.
I asked her how it got there and she said she was just sort of playing with it and it got stuck in there. Having no personal experience with this particular difficulty I was at a loss and had no advise I could give her. To make a long silly story short Linda did get the button out of her nose.
However, because of my giggles and Linda’s playing with her nose we got the attention of Jeff who sat on the other side of my friend. He, of course, wanted to know what was going on. So Linda told him about the button and her nostril. Jeff was quite intrigued and asked how such a thing could happen. So Linda showed him. And yes, once again my best, but maybe not so bright, friend had a button in her nose.
I think you probably understand why this memory has stayed with me all these years and why I still get a laugh from it. I still have a hard time looking at a button without laughing. Fortunately I am okay with noses.
I love to read. It is my favorite thing to do. I have always loved books; how they feel in my hands, how they look on the outside, promising something wonderful on the inside, the way the words look with different typefaces and the different papers and inks. I loved books before I could read and someone else had to read the story to me.
Then there was school, I was finally in first grade. At last I was going to learn to read! Oh, the excitement and anticipation of what was to come. Happily I had no problems with words, numbers were another story, but words and books were more than friends. I started a love affair with them in first grade and it has lasted all these years, still wonderful and passionate.
I got a library card when I was six and have never been without one since. The library was and is like a candy store to me. So hard to decide which books to get. I feel sad for people who do not know how to read. And I really do not understand people who read only when they have to for school or work and never for pleasure.
Books teach me things and take me places, make me happy and sad, laugh and cry, hurt and angry. They lie and tell the truth, they ease my pain and heal my soul. Books are sometimes just okay, sometimes extraordinary, and sometimes worse than awful. Most of the time they are simply wonderful gifts.
I remember the biggest word I learned in first grade. Umbrella. It was in the story, Sally and the Big Black Umbrella. I even remember the picture at the top of the title page, Sally with the big black umbrella closed over her, all that could be seen of Sally was her shoes.
Once I learned that magic word, umbrella, I knew nothing could stop me from learning all the words in any book written. I was on my way! I could hardly wait to know enough words to read books without pictures in them.
To me Labor Day seems like the beginning of the year. When I was a kid school started the day after Labor Day and as far as I was concerned that was the beginning of the year. And Memorial Day was the end of the year.
The summer was bonus time. Little happened during the summer. There was no schedule. Just day after day of freedom. Wonderful days of freedom. I loved it.
I was never was very good about doing something because I was told to–like going to school. I think I would have been more cooperative if it was left up to me whether I went or not. I may have missed some days left to my own devises but I liked learning–still do–and I would have been in the classroom most of the time.
I still like my time being my own. Love the job I have now. Pretty much work the days I want and the hours I want. As long as the work is done when it needs to be, all is well.
I really think we are not meant to live by the clock but by the rhythms of nature. Guess that does not work in this world–but I can dream.