My Day At School

We’re looking up at Miss Thompson expectantly, she gives her military-like orders clearly whilst gazing down at us, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly as she spots Kathryn’s Barbie clutched in her hands. Her Barbie is wearing a green dress with bows on it, and long white socks, and smart red shoes. Her bunches are red and green ribbon. We’re sat on the floor staring woodenly with a protest of waiting any longer to hear the morning’s task.

“Draw a picture of your favourite cartoon…”, she revels with a stubborn tone in her voice, “…show me your best work”.

Perfect! I can use the skills that Neal Buchannan taught me the night before on Art Attack. I will create some sort of crayon magic.

The soft fog is swirling outside the windows, pouring around the playground like a white tide, Miss says there is no outside play time today; which gives me more time to complete my masterpiece.

Whilst Miss hands out some paper for me to use as a canvas for my work of genius, I look in the overflowing colouring tray for inspiration. But all the box holds is the leftovers of a dozen half-completed colouring books with titles like Mickey Mouse, Let’s Go to the Zoo and Great Bible Stories. I’m big and grown up, I don’t need colouring books.

I eagerly dig my way through the tiny brown box full of crayons. I need red, and blue, and yellow, desperately! But the longest dull-pointed chunk of crayon is no more than two inches long. Even with my imagination, it’s hard to create a masterpiece with just dark blue and brown.

I stomp over to the art box, not letting this set me back. A great artist never gets set back. Rummaging through the cluttered box I pull out old cuttings of black and purple felt and empty glitter tubs which had been the contents of my last project. This will not do.

Without Miss looking, I crouch under Penny’s desk and tell her my secret plan of action. We both jump to our feet with a look of determination and begin. My heart is beating through my fingertips; my legs are shaking and I’m thinking of a cunning excuse to plea if we get caught.

We tip-toe to the back-door of the classroom, slowly one step in front of the other, I resemble one of those baddies from Scooby-doo. But it’s okay, Miss will forgive me when she sees my spectacular picture. I gently lean on the door as it swings ajar, it’s trying to get us caught; but me and Penny are outside before Miss notices.
We crouch on the patch of garden, only five footsteps away from the door, so it’s okay. The ground is chilling and the wetness of the grass is leaking through the thin grey cotton of my pleated skirt. I’m surrounded by mucky slugs as big as the crayons inside. They are all slimy and sliding everywhere!

I start pulling the yellow and pink petals off the flower buds and carefully put them in my pocket, trying my hardest not to squash them. I scour the soil on the small flower beds, hoping to find the perfect composition of yellow, blue and pink, but something else catches my sight. Something that some time ago I used to be afraid of. But not now, not anymore, they can’t fool me. The pinkish-brown slimy sliding creature fights his way to the top of the soil, twirling his head in a circular motion, he is never ending. He takes his time whilst he carefully pushes the damp soil to either side with his neck. He looks as if he is cut into a million pieces as each section of him elongates and shrinks, allowing him to move up the flower bed.

I lean toward the wiggly animal and pinch him ever so gently between my second finger and my thumb. I can feel the wetness from the damp soil mixed with his slimy coating which he uses to help him get from one place to another. He is wriggling in-between my fingers so much but I don’t want to leave him out here in the cold, so I put him in my pocket.

I head towards the building to go back inside, leaving Penny to pick some more flower petals for our project. But I look up toward the classroom and the landscape is broken by a monstrous silhouette. It’s the bogeyman coming to eat me up again, not the one from under my bed, but the one from the closet. Horror is racing through me but I am a brave girl and I will confront this monster once and for all. I take soft and fearful steps toward the building, my cheeks are burning up and tears are rushing to my eyes like a huge wave. I get there, looking at the feet first, I’m so scared.

But the bogeyman wasn’t a horrible green colour with gooey purple boils and over-grown toenails. It was wearing small heels like my mummy wears. I look up and my intense thought about my mother’s shoes is broken by the raging look on Miss Thompson’s face. Her eye’s look like they are just going to fall out of her head, her hands are attached to her hips as if she is trying to do an impression of a butterfly. Her left foot starts tapping at a fast pace and the sound of the tap-tap-tap makes me realise that she might be angry about something. I swing my head round to look at Penny, to see if she has found any good flowers. She looked up and immediately darted towards me and Miss Thompson. I peer back at Miss Thompson, now wishing that it was the bogeyman instead.

She takes a long step back from the doorway, indicating to me and Penny that we ought to get back into the classroom. We sheepishly stride in and see ten innocent faces gawking and giggling uncontrollably. I hear a piercing ‘bang’ as the door slams behind me.

A horrible chill runs through my bones as Miss tells me and Penny to stand at the front of the classroom. I feel a tickle at the top of my leg as I realise that the wiggly creature is still in my pocket. My breath starts to shorten and my cheeks are burning. What shall I do? He can’t stay in my pocket forever!

I slowly slide my hand inside my pocket, gently reaching for the creature that I wish I had never found. I quickly look around me, looking for a safe place to put him- where I can rescue him after Miss has told us off.

I look at the soft cushion of Miss’ chair that we are forbidden to sit on. Our chairs are loads smaller and attached to our work-desks. This is perfect! He will be comfy, and he will not be seen. I slowly shuffle closer to the chair, trying not to get caught. If Miss finds him, she will send him back into the cold. And i want to keep him.
I slyly lean toward the chair, with the moving creature cupped in my hand. With a swift movement, I move my arm towards the chair, place the worm on the seat and dart my arm back towards my body.

My face begins to light up with a mischievous grin as I look up at Miss Thompson- proud that my idea has gone to plan, and equally excited to get back to the worm. Miss glares down at me and Penny and tells us to sit down back in our seats quietly. We dart over to our places as fast as we can; Penny gets there before me because she sits at the front of the class; and I sit a three chairs behind her. I finally arrive at my crayon cluttered work-desk- glowing with pride- and tug my chair out to sit down. I look to the front of the class, now ready to continue with my great work of art… to see that Miss has sat down on her chair…

I will never see that Mister Wriggly Worm again!