The Pencil Box :: essays research papers

THE PENCIL BOXNobody managed Jane. As soon as Emily Sweet found that double of Anne of Green Gables&8212a three-hundred-page- spacious book &8212in Janes faded purple kindergarten backpack, that was it. Any hope Jane had for a normal life-time, for swing on the swings, for making a life long friend, someone to share secrets and giggles with, someone to teeter totter with, was over, because nobody likes the smart girl. Nobody likes someone who totes a three hundred page long book to read on the bus. That is the jungle gyms unwritten rule.Well, maybe its not totally accurate to say that nobody liked Jane. Thats not an entirely unbowed statement. Teachers liked Jane. Teachers loved Jane, even though Jane thought they had a funny way of showing it, giving her another urinatesheet to do when she finished the assigned worksheet cardinal minutes before the rest of the class, telling her parents that Jane was a special child, maybe they should move her to a higher grade and her parent s always saying no, we want our little girl to have a normal childhood. It became quite normal for them to have these conversations while Jane sat outside the door wit ha garage sale, dog eared copy of Gone With the Wind&8212a five-hundred-page-long book &8212swinging her patent leather Mary Jane shoes because they didnt reach the ground and she had to do something to keep her attendance through the first twenty pages, pages she always found sub-standard to an otherwise exhilarating book. Yes, supposedly teachers just loved Jane. Thats what all the other children accused them of, love, favoritism, unfair grading, and things like that. They just loved Jane, even though they showed it weird ways.It took Janes second grade teacher, Mrs. Terada to really show some Jane some love. Jane thought Mrs. Terada was an absolute nitwit, with her long tight fitting arms and legs, looking down at all the children through a tiny pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose. And oh, it took al l the acting Jane could tantalise to smile and nod, to not roll her eyes and stick out her tongue when Mrs. Terada presented her with the box. The box sat next to the rattling heat register (that always seemed to work in September, never in December). Under its hot pink cover were rows and rows of manila files, each containing a set of math worksheets, maybe a on the spur of the moment story with comprehension questions at the end.