[Olive branch]

Chapter Six

It is three fifteen. I am four years old. I am still sitting in my classroom, even though the bell has rung. This makes me uncomfortable; I don’t belong in this place at this time and my mother who is sitting beside me most definitely shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t belong with this array of toys, numbers and letters; she is too big for the blue chair that fits a child sized person so she is forced to sit on the patchwork beanbag, her knees hunched up beside her.
I know I am being told off. I sat in the centre of the room this playtime and refused to go outside. I couldn’t bear to be out there again, to have my hair tugged, to be called names, to be tripped up. I couldn’t bear it so I refused. I sat in the centre of the room and my teacher told me I could only stay if I was really good. I wasn’t really good. I went around the class and broke all the lead from the tips of all the pencils and colouring pencils and put each one in my pocket.
When everyone came back from break I was sitting in the middle of the floor with all the leads lined up in colour order. I was taken to the corner and asked to explain why I did it. I said I didn’t know but that it seemed right at the time.
So now I’m here, with Mummy. My teacher wants me to sharpen all the crayons ready for tomorrow instead of doing some normal games for homework. Mummy says that this seems fair, that I will do it and she says that she is disappointed in me.
I didn’t know it was wrong- I didn’t even think about it. I think I am disappointed too, I am almost big enough to feel longer words.