A Different Kind of Bully

April 29, 2008
By Breanna Casey, Clark, NJ

I’m stuck in
the yellow-painted classroom
that holds my restless
five year old body
still and quiet
for an unbearable
six hours.

I revisit my day dreams
when my teacher picks up a red covered book,
her jaw drops
and her eyes widen-
as if it was some new found treasure.
She begins to read
Green Eggs and Ham
for the fourth time
this week.
My deepest apologies, Dr. Seuss,
But your epic tale
about the relationship
between man and egg
can only touch my heart so many times.
As I hear the words,
“ Not on a train..Not on a plane…”
My gaze becomes fixed
on making farm animals
out of the cottony clouds
that are glossed by
the glaze from shiny windows.
My focus is soon lost-
Being that the only animal
my imagination could form
was a stupid rabbit.

Suddenly, I remember you,
and how terribly
you had mocked me
the previous day.
I peer out the door-
my curly pony tail
swinging freely to the side of my head.
I confirm that
the hallway is clear
of all “meanie” teachers.
I decide to take advantage
of that adult-less hall,
I was coming for you.
Innocent smile intact,
my mini fingers wiggle
acting as if a trip
to the bathroom is vital.
Foolishly, you believe me.
Oh, Mrs. Krick..so naive,
Constantly deceived
by my little toothless grin.

You’re staring me down,
like those old cow boy
movies where two men
are at opposite ends of the road..
watching the tumbleweed roll by.
I see your porcelain stature
all the way down
the eternity of this hall.
My three foot body
becomes enraged with fury.
Eyes squinted,
I march to you-
as a soldier marches to battle.
I promise myself that
I will not stand for
your cruel and unfair ways.
My eye brows bend
like lightning bolts
from my forehead.
I finally see
that you have still won,
despite my deepest determination.
I hate you! You mechanical water spout!
How dare you be too tall
for my tiny body to reach.
Avert your white stone glare from me.

I look at you,
and I know you’re laughing-
watching me jump up and down
as if I was on a pogo stick,
trying to flick some of your
precious water onto my tongue.
You frustrate me,
and this dilemma has become personal.
It you vs. me,
you big old dumb water fountain.
Ha! Just as you relax,
believing victory is yours-
I find a mop cart
that a janitor had
so graciously left me.
Thank you, yellow mop bucket,
for being my ladder
to that sacred water.
My teacher exclaims
When she again finds me
in the midst of mischief.
Her voice startles me-
leading to my tragic fall,
and the object that
was once my ally
becomes my enemy
as I find myself
stuck in the container
that holds dirty floor goo.

But rest not, water fountain…
We will meet again.

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