S
chool
R. Jukerji
(1)
He always wanted to say things. But no one understood. He always wantedto explain things. But no one cared, so he drew.(2)Sometimes, he would just draw, and it wasn’t anything. He wanted tocarve it in stone or write it in the sky, and it would be only him and the skyand the things inside him that needed saying.(3)And it was after that that he drew the picture. It was a beautiful picture.He kept it under the pillow and would let no one see it. And he would look atit every night and think about it. And when it was dark, and his eyes wereclosed, he could still see it. And it was all of him. And he loved it. When hestarted school, he brought it with him like a friend.(4)It was funny about school. He sat in a square brown desk like all the othersquare brown desks, and he thought it should be red. And his room was asquare brown room like all the other rooms. And it was tight, close, and stiff.(5)He hated to hold pencil and the chalk with his arm stiff and his feet flat onthe floor, stiff, with the teacher watching and watching. And then he had towrite numbers, and they weren’t anything. They were worse than letters thatcould do something if you put them together. And the numbers were lightand square, and he hated the whole thing.(6)The teacher came and spoke to him. She told him to wear a tie, like all theother boys. He said he didn’t like ties, and she said it didn’t matter.(7)After that they drew. And he drew yellow, and it was the way he felt aboutmorning. And it was beautiful.(8)The teacher came and smiled at him. “What’s this?” she said. “Why don’t
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| Upload Date: | 06/28/2009 |
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