Detention
My fourth grade teacher’s name is Ms. Johnson. Her black hair is cut like a boy’s but has flecks of grey like my gramma. Her pointy nose squints at me when she is telling me I am in trouble. She is about as tall as me, but I am pretty tall for my age. She also gets right in my face, too. I think she does that, because we are almost the same height. I know she is the boss of me at school.
“Law-cy, I’m gonna send home a note to your paw-rents today…aw-gain.” Its sounds as if there is a muscle in her mouth that doesn’t want to work. She tells the class at the start of the school year that she is from Louisana, so I guess that explains it.
It a note is going home this means my name is on the board with three checks by it. My name is usually the only name on teh chalkboard, but sometimes it’s not the only name. If there is another name up there it’s usually a boy’s name, because most of the girls in my class are good and well behaved.
When she tells me I am getting a note sent home not only do I get a note, but I have to eat my lunch in detention. Sometimes I hate eating my lunch in there, but sometimes it’s not so bad. Ms. Hannah is the teacher who has lunch detention duty. I don’t think I ever see her around school except when I have detention. She’s prettier than Ms. Johnson with her long, shinny brown hair and brown eyes. She is so tall and skinny that I bet she is from another country, like Italy. When we eat lunch in there is feels like a cave. Mr. Hannah keeps teh lights off and the air condition is always on really high. “Lacy, you have lunch detention again?” I nodd. “Why can’t you just be quiet?” All I would do was shrug. I didnt understand why eating my lunch in there was suppose to keep me from not talking in class. Maybe if I could talk during lunch detention I wouldnt have to talk the rest of the day.
The only thing I liked about detention was having an excuse to not eat lunch with the other kids. They make fun of me all the time, because I talk so much in class. They like to give me nicknames like ‘motor mouth’ or diagnosis me with some mental disorder, telling me I need drugs. I can’t help it most of the time, and if they knew how much I wish I would just be the quiet kid.
I get the same thing when I get home from school. When I hand my mom the note, she immdiatley replies, “Why can’t you just keep your damn mouth shut in class?” I shrugged, holding back tears. “You run that mouth of yours all the damn time. You’re grounded for two weeks.” Good, I thought. I dont want to hang around anyone anways. I like my room just fine and no one there calls me a ‘motor mouth’. She’ll tell my dad, but he’ll either repeat what she said orn ot say anything at all.
My mom will sign the note and send it back with me to school, proving that she saw it. Im sure Ill get another one again though. Thats for certain.