The Pencil Box :: essays research papers

THE pencil BOXNobody liked Jane. As soon as Emily sweet ensnare that copy of Anne of Green Gables&8212a three-hundred-page-long book &8212in Janes timid purple kindergarten backpack, that was it. Any hope Jane had for a normal life, for swing on the swings, for making a life long friend, person to share secrets and giggles with, some(a)one to teeter totter with, was over, because nobody likes the smart girl. Nobody likes someone who totes a three hundred page long book to read on the bus. That is the jungle gyms unwritten rule.Well, maybe its not totally accurate to hypothecate that nobody liked Jane. Thats not an entirely true statement. Teachers liked Jane. Teachers love Jane, even though Jane thought they had a funny way of cover it, giving her an another(prenominal) worksheet to do when she finished the assigned worksheet fifteen legal proceeding before the rest of the class, telling her parents that Jane was a special child, maybe they should drive her to a higher grade and her parents always saying no, we want our lady friend to have a normal childhood. It became quite normal for them to have these conversitions charm Jane sat outside the door wit ha garage sale, give chase eared copy of Gone With the Wind&8212a five-hundred-page-long book &8212 vacillation her patent leather Mary Jane shoes because they didnt reach the ground and she had to do something to keep her attention through the first twenty pages, pages she always found sub-standard to an otherwise exhilarating book. Yes, supposedly teachers just loved Jane. Thats what all the other children accused them of, love, favoritism, unfair grading, and things like that. They just loved Jane, even though they showed it weird ways.It took Janes second grade teacher, Mrs. Terada to really show some Jane some love. Jane thought Mrs. Terada was an absolute nitwit, with her long skinny arms and legs, looking stilt at all the children through a tiny pair of glaze perched on the end of her nose. A nd oh, it took all the acting Jane could muster to smile and nod, to not roll her eyes and stick out her tongue when Mrs. Terada presented her with the box. The box sat next to the rattling heat register (that always seemed to work in September, never in December). Under its hot pink cover were rows and rows of manila files, each containing a set of math worksheets, maybe a suddenly story with comprehension questions at the end.