Story Time Sunday: Don’t Cry Over Split Milk.

Sadly, I have run into somewhat of a writer’s block regarding my “Story Time Sunday” posts. I have plenty more stories to tell, but haven’t really been feeling inspired to write them lately. I took last week off, and I think that I am just going to keep it simple this week with a short and less embellished story about Kindergarten.

I was a really sensitive kids, and when I say sensitive, I mean that I would break down crying if I smiled at someone in the grocery store and they didn’t smile back. My mother was amazing. Like most mothers, she had a unique way of dealing with her child’s quarks. However, when I started Kindergarten, I learned that the rest of the would wouldn’t always handle me with such delicate care.

It was a rainy afternoon late Spring. My elementary school was on an early dismissal that day, which made the kids excitable and unfocused. Around lunchtime, my teacher decided to throw in the towel, allowing the class to eat our lunches in the classroom while watching a movie. “Keep your food and drinks on your desk,” she called, “we don’t want any messes.”

Everything started well enough, I was seated with my rectangle shaped school pizza and carton of white milk in front of me. Unfortunately, the t.v. was positioned behind me, so I had to twist around backwards to see it. My childhood bestfriend Beth set beside me, snickering across the room to one of the boys. The movie started, a VHS copy of “The Lion King.” Kids talked quietly amongst themselves as we all watched the movie.

I started to get really uncomfortable having to twist back and forth between my food and the t.v. My friend Beth had already swung around in her chair, balancing her food tray on her lap. I tried to mimic her when, to my dismay, my carton of white milk went tumbling to the ground. Kids quickly scooted out of the path of my spilled drink while my teacher rushed over with a towel. My Kindergarten teacher resembled Mrs. Frizzle from the Magic School Bus cartoon, though she was much less creative and imaginative. Like Mrs. Frizzle, she had red frizzy hair and always wore decorative ankle length dresses. However, she was much less friendly than the cartoon teacher and wasn’t half as patient.

“M! What did I say to all of you before the movie started?” She scolded. I couldn’t meet her eyes, as mine were already welling up with tears. “Not to spill,” I replied sheepishly. “Clean it up with this towel and then go to the cafeteria and get another drink.” She tossed me the towel with a scowl. I did my best to mop up the milk, but I didn’t go to the cafeteria for another milk. I had lost my apatite. All the other kids stared at me as I choked back sobs. “Now sit in your chair facing your desk,” my teacher ordered. “But I can’t see the movie,” I stammered. She brushed off my protests and stormed back to her desk.

I felt terrible. Not only had my lunch been ruined by the spilled milk, my teacher had embarrassed me if front of the entire class. I didn’t want to be around any of them any more. When everyone had refocused their attention on the movie. I crawled out of my desk and over to the island of cubbies in the middle of the classroom. I stealthily crawled into one of the cubbies and closed the door behind me.

I cried quietly to myself until the movie ended. “How long will it take them to realize I’m gone?” I wondered. From inside the cubby, I could here students standing and chairs scooting as everyone made their way back to their desks. “Where is M?” I heard my teacher call. No one answered. I could hear panic start to rise in her voice as she called out to her teachers assistant, “Go check the cafeteria and if she isn’t there, move onto the bathrooms and the office.” She ordered all of the students to help her search the classroom.

I could hear feet shuffling outside of the cubby, but no one opened the door. I couldn’t help but snicker to myself. An evil part of me saw the panic that I had created as some kind of masterful revenge plot for how I had been treated. Approximately ten minutes had passed when the teaches assistant made her way back into the classroom. “I couldn’t find her,” she said. “Check the playground,” my teacher ordered.

From my hiding spot in the cubby, I heard my teacher mention calling the principal to report that I was missing. I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I had to devise an escape plan. I heard someone else walking close to the cubby door and decided to make a little bit of noise so they would find me. I softly tapped my foot several times against the wooden cubby door. “Mrs. Smith! She’s over here!” One of the children called out. My teacher rushed over to the cubby and swung open the door.

I had closed my eyes, so I could only imagine the shock and relief on her face when she found me sleeping inside. She shook me gently to “wake” me. After crawling out of the cubby, my teacher laughed and asked what I was doing in there. I told her that I didn’t want the kids to see me cry, so I hid in the cubby and fell asleep. All was well, I got an apology for being scolded so harshly and never got punished for spilling the milk or for causing a panic.

Did you ever do anything silly like this when you were little? I would love to hear from you in the comment section below. If you enjoyed this post, please shoot me a like, comment, or follow.

Love Always, AnxiouslyM

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s