Recess: a learning experience

 

 

 

        Live long             

The teachers shivered as they watched the recess horde which never ever ended. It’s death or life, lies or truth. It's them or us. Their eyes glazed around the mob, knowing that some opportunity could lead to havoc.   

Like the crack of a jump rope, a type of sizzling chemistry suddenly burst around them, exploding loose. Screw philosophy and fact. Forget about instruction, all the facts from teacher education. Clothes? Who needs them when all hell breaks loose?

Somewhere, there is an agency, somewhere that will set the playground in order. Over near the swings there would be a huddled group of people, clutching boxes of books, reading as if their lives depending on it. The agency will know how to help them all. Soon.

I wouldn’t count on help coming anytime soon

I am well versed in recess duty.  There is no joy in that place.

 The colored words are a Wednesday Word collection from ages ago. Recess memories still remain.

 

In honor of Delores at thefeatherednest and her wit, her perspective, her way of thinking.

I have heard darkness described as mysterious, inky, like velvet...but the darkness in the old Davis mansion, with the last Davis reposing in his coffin across town in the Gentle Rest Funeral Home, was, simply put, horrifying.  I would have as soon sat at the side of old Mr. Davis’ coffin all night than stay in this hideous old mausoleum.  Yet, here I must stay, all the long, black, dismal night.  What’s worse, I have to stay here,  ALONE.

I continue this prompt:

Matilda twisted the dust rag, glancing at the dark corners and the shadowed ceiling.  How had she been chosen to keep the lights on in this old rotting mansion?  To keep away the greedy townspeople who had hated the Davis legacy with a deep born loathing?

‘Oh, well’ she sighed.  She dragged another bag of silver and baubles to put in the back of her van parked in the back of the kitchen.  The paintings were secured, the carved statues next to them, and now the silver. 

‘Maybe one more bag…the library had a nice collection of first edition Jane Austen and Charles Dickens…

Sunshine and Fate

Source: kodakgold

It was fate, down-right fate.  Taking Sunshine to this Consignment Store where bling and style lined each rack and each shelf, was fate.

Grandma told Sunshine they were looking at purses and cool clothes while they waited for Bright Eyes to
finish her dance class.  With only ten minutes to go, this seemed a safe option.

Entering the door that rang with an old fashioned bell over the door, they found that bling did exist and in great quantities.  But there was something else.

In a place of honor was a pair of women cowboy boots.  Of course, boots are made of leather (if they are true cowboy boots).  These boots sported the hide that once decorated a rust and white cow.  These boots were soft and pretty.

Sunshine cried, “OH, NO!” and ran to embrace the boots. 

“Oh, Grandma!  Please tell me these boots are not made from a horse!  ‘Cause Spirit’s girlfriend horse had fur JUST LIKE THIS!”  She cradled the boots.  She gazed at Grandma, with wide blue eyes glistening with tears.

Per Wikipedia, God bless 'em

Then she looked accusingly at the two women who ran the store.  “I am an animal lover, and horses are almost human!  Are these made from a horse?!”

The two women were horrified at the very thought.  They reassured Sunshine that those boots were made from a cow; boots would NEVER be made from horses.  EVER!

Grandma distracted Sunshine with a blingey purse, but the seven year old gave the women an evil look that said, “You’d better be telling the truth.”

They nodded silently.