A quote: “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance” Ecclesiastes 3:1-4
I’ll start with a story …
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They got off the bus one stop early and walked hand in hand to school. Mama’s hand squeezed her love to Ruthie.
When Teacher took her hand, mama leaned down to kiss her “I’ll be back later”.
Ruthie sighed “Mama’s sad.” But Teacher jerked her and said “No she’s not. She’s happy, happy you won’t be underfoot all day.”
In class Teacher wouldn’t let her draw alone. When she asked for books she was sent to time out. Ruthie on the group story rug kept falling asleep to Teacher’s voice.
Ruthie knew tonight they would have to move. Again.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
Marjorie Taylor Scream says: Trudy Boo had a hard time at regular school after govbotschool.com was abolished. Mama Boo told Trudy that her teacher, Ms. Nibtard, was a woke social justice idiot. Finally, one day little first grader Ruthie snapped after Ms. Libatard again badmouthed President Trump. Running up to Ms. Nibtard, Trudy thrust her scissors into Nibatrd’s leg screaming, “Mama says you need to fok yowself you stupid libtawd. Pwesident Twump is the best pwesident we ever seen.” With that, Ruthie ran into the hallway screaming, :Fo mo ya-aws.”
Joanie Gee says: Single mom Katrina and her daughter Ivy were in the Dallas area warming center escaping the paralyzing cold of their trailer, which still had no electricity. Katrina had beamed with hope when she moved to Texas. Escaping the cold winters of Minnesota and the oppressive liberal politics of her hometown was her dream. Had she made the right decision? When Ivy refused to wear her mask, the center’s administrator sternly admonished mother and child. Little Ivy screamed, “Fok Ted Cruz!” She was promptly sent to time-out. Katrina’s anxiety erupted. Was it time to move again?
M. Lewis says: Agnes Croat, token school board member after decades of teaching and administrative service to the system, had read the memo twice before the meeting began. Clandestine meetings were nothing new to this board. Obviously with no children registered, there would be no kindergarten. No classes, no teachers, no salaries.
“Hank from the Bank” Anderson gaveled them to attention. Miss Croat unconsciously rolled the memo horizontally into the old knuckle-raking smacker. She stood, cleared her ancient throat, waited for silence.
She held up the memo and croaked in her best bad teacher voice, “What the bloody hell is Home School?”
Navig8r says: Here’s the proof of life photo. So, Rookies, what does it tell us about where they are holding her?
Closed school, hallway outside the principal’s office? Lots of choices there with the shut down.
Schools would usually have a better color scheme.
Bus station?
Chairs would be bolted together or bolted down.
Business office?
Color scheme and ergonomics would be better. My money is on the waiting area for a restaurant. Now, let’s all try to remember which restaurant has that color scheme.
That’s a tough one. You’re the veteran. Restaurants haven’t been allowed open since I was her age.
Cameron says: “Sir, you need to be reasonable. Your daughter-”
“Son,” I snapped.
The teacher sighed in annoyance. “She was caught with her hair tied up like that. But don’t worry; we have a surgeon en route who-”
“The girls did this to my hair!” my son snapped. “You got mad because I pushed them away when they didn’t stop.”
“Young lady, behave yourself,” the teacher replied only to stop at the sight of the gun I pushed to her head.
“My son and I are leaving this school. Any questions?”
She had none and we began homeschooling our son after that.
Dupin says: I had the best-est show-n-tell ever, but I’m in trouble.
I asked Miss Stackhouse to let me go first, and I let him in back of the school. It was close to my classroom. Some screamed when he came in, but others said, “Cool.” When he stood up and raised his paws up and growled, he tore up the ceiling, so I’m in trouble. Jimmy peed his pants. He’ll never bully me again.
I can’t bring Mister Grizzly in again. Mama’s coming to talk, but it don’t matter. It was the best-est show-n-tell ever. Next week, I’ll bring Mister Moose.
“You’re late, Ms Wyant.”
Jane winced, fighting the urge to avoid the boss’s eyes. All her life she’d struggled to be on time.
It wasn’t that she didn’t try. She’d start an hour early, only to have “plenty of time” turn to “not enough time” in the blink of an eye. And it wasn’t a matter of not caring. She still remembered when she was in seventh grade and she wanted to win the Prompt and Punctual Award because that quarter’s prize was a pizza party. She’d almost done it, only to get distracted on her way to school the very last day of the quarter. When she’d realized what she’d done, she’d gone the rest of the way in a flat-out run, but had still arrived three minutes late.
And now she’d done it again on her first job. Would he cut her slack just this once, or would she be written up, just days after she’d started.
Nothing to do but hope she looked adequately contrite, but not like she was trying to milk the situation for sympathy. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try to do better.”
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