'Creativity Flaw'

I went to a really awesome when I was between the ages of five to eleven.  It was a small school, although I liked it.  I was offered many other schools, but I refused.  I loved my good old school, and I wasn’t about to give it up.
It just so happened that in second grade I had the strictest teacher.  My teacher in second grade actually enjoyed me as a pupil in her classroom.  I was glad; it’s really lucky to be liked by a strict teacher.  Then came (what I call) the ‘Creativity Flaw’.  Yes, I have a creativity flaw.  I am too creative.  That’s what my mom even says. 
It was spring. I absolutely loved school, I loved recess, and I loved folding origami.  I basically loved all of second grade. 
In second grade, my teacher would do read-aloud.  It would always be before or after lunch.  During read-aloud, you could do basically anything quiet.  You could draw, do homework, or in my case, fold origami with my friend. 
My friend and I made a pretty good team.  She would cut the paper into squares, color them, and then pass them on to me.
I usually received paper with a variety of colors, sometimes bold, with stripes of green, black, and purple, or maybe something sweet like a plaid pattern with colors of white and red.  Sometimes she would even draw specific designs, like a flower, or a bird.
After I got her paper, I would fold it into anything that came to mind.  A crane or a fish?  A bunny or a lantern?  A cat or a dog?  (That is not all the things I can fold origami into, but those are the most popular choices.)
I would think about my options carefully, and then decide.  (Usually the choice depended on how much time was left.) Then I would carefully fold one side on top of the other, creasing it sharply with my nail.  I would place layer over layer, fold over fold, until it was done. 
After my work was done, I daintily placed it in the top section of my desk.  And then onto the next sheet of paper, and the routine goes on.
After our teacher ended read-aloud, the average number of new origami in my desk was about twelve pieces.  After a week, about sixty new additions. 
Soon after doing this for about a month, there was no more room in the top section of my desk.  I did not panic; instead, I started putting the folded origami into the bottom section of my desk!
After about two months, my desk was flooded.  If you had accidentally bumped into my desk, about ten origami pieces would’ve fallen out.
I asked my friend if she could put some of them into her desk.  She said she couldn’t, because her desk was already messy enough.  I was suspicious; maybe she was just saying that so she wouldn’t have to carry the colorful creations.  One day when she wasn’t looking, I peeked inside her desk.  She was correct; her desk was just about as messy as mine.  I was not pleased.
“Can we stop folding paper now?  It’s really not getting fun anymore.” I pleaded
“We can’t!” she said.  “We have to finish our project.”
I bet you are wondering what sort of project includes tons of folded paper that clutters peoples’ desks.  Well, before we started folding our paper, we thought we could make a mobile out of them.  Well, that idea got a little dull so we totally dropped that idea.  Or I did.  My friend still had her ‘hopes and dreams’ about our mobile.
So I continued folding paper.  It seems obvious, my desk soon got to full.  So I turned to shoving them in my binder.  That sort of worked.
People in my class no longer knew me as my name, but as, ‘The Girl Who Always Folds Origami and Stashes them in her Desk and Binder which is why they are Always So Messy All the Time.’
Yeah, you get it.  I wasn’t that pleased with all of that, but the one person who was the least happy of all, was my teacher.
My teacher was known as ‘Ms. Perfect’ instead of her actual name.  Why?  Well, because she was always perfect.  (Well not really, but that is how she saw herself, and that is how we saw her.)  My teacher was always clean, always direct, and always making jokes that I never understood.  She was the kind of teacher that doesn’t repeat directions, even if you are sitting in the very back of the room, and can’t hear anything besides the humming of the cheap radiator.
The point I am trying to make is that she wasn’t excited about my ‘artwork’ cluttering up all my desk and binder space. 
One day, she marched right up to me and said, “Hey, how come your desk is so messy?”
I politely explained my origami activity.  My teacher was not pleased.
“You’d better clean it up before we move desks.” She said sharply.  Then she left.
The reason why she said that was because we moved desks different from most schools.  Most schools move the actual tables.  Instead, we keep the table arrangements the same, and then just move our stuff into the assigned desk.
Over the past seat changes, I always took the longest.  And that was before I started folding.
Soon a week passed, and I brushed off my teacher’s advice like you would brush off an annoying fly.
A week passed, and my desk still hadn’t gotten cleaner.  Now my new nickname turned into, ‘The Girl who never bothered to Clean out her Desk and Binder so she will Probably Get in Trouble with the Teacher.’
And yes, I did.  After three days, my teacher announced that it was time to move desks.  Everyone was practically done before the information sank into my head.
My teacher was not happy. (Like always these days.) 
“Can anyone help Emily move to her new table?” she asked to the whole entire class.
People actually raised their hands.  My cheeks grew hot.
Luckily, my teacher chose one of my friends. She decided to help move my binder.  Unluckily, I hadn’t zipped it yet.  My friend lifted it off the table, and, WHOOSH!
All the origami that I had stored in my binder came piling out.  (Also some homework assignments.)
I groaned.  So did my friend.  So did my teacher.
Everyone in my class was staring at me.  I could’ve sworn my cheeks turned even redder.
My teacher glanced at the clock.  “Oh, I forgot!” she says cheerfully, as if my origami incident hadn’t of happened.  “It’s time for gym!”
Everyone cheered, because gym was their favorite class.  (And mine too.)
I assumed it would take their minds off of my origami spill.  I also assumed that when I leave for gym, it would take my mind off of being totally embarrassed.
I left my stuff where it was, and happily followed the rest of my class.  I was almost out the door when, “Excuse me, can you come here?”
I glanced at my teacher, who had called me.  I walked nervously to her desk.  “Yes?” I asked.
The teacher looked up after grading a big fat ‘0’ on somebody’s quiz.  “You can’t go to gym until your desk is all clean.  And when you say you are done, I’m going to inspect it.”
My jaw drops.  (Literally).  But I know better than to argue with my teacher.
Instead of objecting, I nod and walk glumly to my desk to continue cleaning.  I had no idea where to put my origami; I didn’t want to throw them into the trash! Instead, I stuffed them into the pockets of my backpack.  (I did this when my teacher wasn’t looking.)
Soon my backpack was stuffed.  But there was a still load of origami to get through.  I stuck my hands in my desk and rummaged around.  I luckily found a large QFC shopping bag. 
I carefully stuffed my origami into that bag too.  Surprisingly, there was no more left after I stuffed the most I could into the shopping bag.  I almost wiped my forehead and said, “Phew”.
Now there was the rest of the desk to clean.
I started with the papers shoved to the back of the desk.  I unwrinkled them and either dumped them into the recycle, or placed them in the correct folders in my binder.  This dragged on until thirty minutes later.  Soon I was done.
I walked up to my teacher’s desk.  I waited.  She glanced up at me.  I looked back.  “What?” she said.
“I’m done.” I said quietly.
She stood up and walked over to my desk.  She looked at it.  She turned her head to look at it from a different angle.  I still do not get how that makes inspecting easier.
“Not bad.” She said roughly.  “But needs to be better next time.  I’m going easy on you, next time you’ll owe me recess!”
I nod, even though I don’t exactly care about recess.
“Now go to gym.  Explain to the teacher why you were late.” She said.
I glanced at the clock.  “Gym’s over.” I said.
She glanced at the clock too.  “Oh, then just stay here.”
Soon the day was over, and I was relieved.  I made sure to keep my desk clean in the future. Very clean.
You might think that my teacher and I didn’t get along.  Actually we did.  She mentioned that I was smart and creative.  (Maybe just a bit too creative.)
And yes, that ended my origami career, but I was actually quite pleased.
And then came the end of the year.  Report cards.
I’m one of those kids who never take a single peek at their report card until he/she lets his/her parents see with him/her.
I opened my report card.  In the comments section said boldly:


You're child is a wonderful student.  She is hardworking and efficient. 
She just focuses too much on her paper folding.


My cheeks went red again.