Tracing a Dark Circle

Tracing a Dark Circle

A Story by joewade

A little boy's horrible esperience at a Catholic School. Touches on the damages of bullying and opression.


Tracing a Dark Circle

By Joe Wade

Their teacher had a wrinkled face with a beaked nose and a sharp protruding chin. She wore her hair pulled into a tight bun that stretched her temples. Her clothes were all business, like an old English schoolmarm. The words she spoke were short, direct, and punctuated with cold blue eyes that looked fiercely over glasses which sat low on her nose. Her height of five feet may as well have been seven feet to Christian and his peers.

            “Welcome to your first day at St Joseph’s Elementary. I am Mrs. Kently,” she said, as she wrote her name in abrasive chalk strokes on the giant chalk board that had a wooden paddle hanging next to it.

            Mrs. Kently turned to address her class. “You are all privileged to be attending a private school. We don’t allow poor students here, so there will be no slacking on your end. The first thing you need to learn at school is to do what you are told.

            “I have to go speak with my husband�"your principal. I want you to practice writing my name until I get back. The one who writes it best will get a candy. The rest of you will have to write it ten more times. Well, what are you looking at? You are here to be the best aren’t you? Get to work.” Mrs. Kently glared at the children for a moment and walked out of the room.

            Christian, five years old with inquiring, big brown eyes, sat at his desk in the back of the room, writing the teacher’s name.  He was focused on doing his best, so he hardly noticed the other kids gathering and talking excitedly, or that ten minutes passed since the teacher left.

            The other children’s large smiles began to twist into sinister smirks as they looked at Christian and whispered. Their eyes began to narrow and grow beady, and their faces gave the appearance of evil little monsters. They contrasted with the innocent ABC blocks and plastic apple on the teacher’s desk.

            Their excited whisperings grew louder, “Let’s get him,” said the leader of the group.

            “Yeah , let’s get him,” echoed the mob of children.

            A sweet blonde, rosy-cheeked little girl named Laura begged them to stop, “No, don’t! Leave him alone.”

            Brady, the group leader, smiled menacingly and called out in a sing song voice, “Christian, come here! We want to play a game.” He looked at Laura defiantly.

            Christian bounced over to the group with light in his eyes, and a warm smile on his face.

            The mob instantly surrounded him and chanted, “Get him, get him!”

            Laura stepped between Christian and the mob. She began to sob and cry out, “Stop it, stop it, you are all mean!”

            Christian moved in front of Laura, not saying a word, startled by what was happening. The mob moved closer, continuing their chant, and Christian moved back, keeping Laura behind him. The mob backed them into a corner. Brady was in front, staring at Christian like a child possessed. Christian stared back, bewildered.

            Then came the kick to the stomach, punctuated by laughter as Christian fell. Brady turned to his cohorts and slapped their hands. “Yeah! I got him.”

            Laura’s soft, motherly voice found its way to Christian’s ears amongst the ringing confusion. “Are you okay?” Her child-like, blond hair fell about his face as she wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug and helping him up. He never answered and never cried.

            Mrs. Kently entered the room, and everyone scrambled to their seats�"except Christian who moved slowly holding his stomach.

            “Snap, Snap,” Mrs. Kently cracked, looking angrily at Christian.“Move faster like your peers. You will never get anywhere if you are slow.”

            A roar of laughter came from the other students

            All the sweet little kids put away their monster masks and smiled innocently for their teacher. Christian sat at his desk with his eyes wide and fastened to his paper�"the light in them was out. Laura looked worriedly at him, but the class began, and no one knew what just happened but the monsters and their victims.

            Christian went through the start of kindergarten with Laura as his only friend until she and her parents moved to another state. Then Jonathan walked in, on his first day at the school. Jonathan was tall and skinny with knotted, disheveled hair. He was outspoken, unruly, and a perfect match for Christian, because they were outcasts together. They became friends with a few whispered introductions.

            “Hey, what’s your name?”

            “My name’s Jonathan. I’m a foster kid,” he said sadly, hanging his head.

            “What’s a foster kid?”

            “It means I can’t live with my mom.”

            “Okay, well, I’m Christian. Do you wanna be friends?”

            Jonathan beamed in his seat, “Thanks, I don’t have any….”

            “Jonathan! Be quiet! Do not come in here and talk during class. These are good students. You would do well to be just like them.” Mrs. Kently glared angrily at Jonathan.

She  instructed everyone to write their ABC’s. Ten minutes went by, and Jonathan began to squirm in his seat.

            “I can’t do it! I hate this!”

            “Shhhh, you will get in trouble,” Christian replied soothingly, “I can help you.”

            Mrs. Kently’s head snapped up from her desk. “What’s all this talking, you two!” She stomped over to their desks and towered above them, staring disapprovingly through narrowed eyes behind her angrily drawn face. Jonathan hung his head in silent failure.

            “He says he can’t write them,” Christian told her, pointing to the paper on Jonathan’s desk, “I was trying to help.”

            “What is this?” Mrs. Kently snatched the paper. “This,” she announced, “is not how you write your ABCs.” She held the picture of a stick figure family up for the class to see. Everyone turned in their seats, pointing and laughing at Jonathan.

            Jonathan turned red and cried angrily, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Leave me alone!”

            With a whir and a snatch, Mrs. Kently grabbed Jonathan by his wrist.

            “That’s enough, young man. I’m going to fix you!” Jonathan screamed, kicked, and wailed as she hauled him out of the room into the closet across the hall. Christian began to tremble and rock himself as terrifying screams erupted from the closet. The class fell silent, all but Brady, who was laughing uncontrollably. The high pitched cries of Jonathan begging her to stop�"between loud cracks�"of a paddle continued for what seemed to be an eternity. Mrs. Kently emerged from the tiny, dark room across the hall. She locked the door behind her, and Jonathan began howling between crying wails, “Let me out! Let me out!” He was banging and kicking the door.

            “What are you all looking at? Back to work!” Everyone began writing furiously but Christian; he sat at his desk, trembling, tracing an O over and over with his pencil.

            A half hour went by, and Mrs. Kently brought Jonathan back into the room. His face was flushed and tear streaked while he sniffed uncontrollably. Brady looked back at Jonathan and snickered, and Christian glared back at Brady.

            “Alright students, it is time to say verses of the week. Who wants to lead their peers today?” Mrs. Kently paced around their desks judging the students.

            “Mr. Brady, you always know the verses. Why don’t you lead the class today? Go ahead, go up front.”

            Brady stood in front of the class with a huge smirk, twisting with excitement as he began to say the verses with the class and the teacher following his lead. “I Corinthians 13: 4-7, love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is…it is…” Brady’s face flushed red from the neck up as he choked on his memory.

“Not easily angered,” Mrs. Kently interjected.

 Jonathan sighed, and slumped in his desk. “Jonathan, go sit in the corner. Now,” Mrs. Kently cracked.

“Brady! It’s not easily angered. Continue please!”

“… not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Christian walked over to Jonathan and sat next to him in the corner. The quietness of awe filled the classroom as they began to laugh uncontrollably at the secret joke between them.

“Both of you to the principals office now!” Mrs. Kently stormed out of the room turning the color of a boiling thermometer, and the two boys laughed and laughed.

© 2010 joewade

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Really good story, very detailed. You might want to continue it with something positive, sometimes it will make a really good story when you start off with something tragic and end with something really positive. Keep up the good work! :)

Posted 13 Years Ago

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1 Review
Added on October 27, 2010
Last Updated on October 27, 2010
Tags: love, bullying, bully, teacher, school, Christian, boy, girl, I Corinthians 13
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