Third Grade

I sat in the front row of Mrs. Olsen’s third grade class. The chalk board spanned the length of my view, claustrophobically outlined by the blue rim of my glasses. I became familiar with the homework section on the right in contrast with the calendar on the far left. My seat was close but not uncomfortable.
It was the week we were presenting our favorite hobbies to the class. Each day five students were scheduled to stand in front of my desk and explain their favorite pass time. When Daniel presented his origami, he walked around the class demonstrating how to create a small paper swan. His hands smelled like urine up close. I watched as Alexandra showed us how to make Asian dumplings. I was distracted by the musty smell and decided not to try them. When my turn came, I set my scrap book up on the chalk ledge with my favorite pages exposed to the class. It was from the trip with mom’s extended family down to Virginia Beach. I loved how the yellow and blue paper complimented the shots of us on the beach. My rough presentation of how to put together a scrap book included stylized scissors, shape cutters, stickers, paper colors and a list of where these items could be purchased. As I spoke, students passed around pictures that I intended to insert into my book later.
When my presentation was over, the day was similarly at an end. Mrs. Olsen reminded us to keep up with the chapters in Bud Not Buddy. We were sent off with the subtle clang of a bell, and all arose to retrieve our book bags off their respective hooks. A sudden bump in the shoulder caused me to look quickly to my left, only to see Isaac walking quickly past. His backwards sneer proved he meant to be pushy. Looking down passively, I kept towards the hook with my name on it. In my peripheral vision I saw Isaac and his friend, Chinua whispering to each other. They seemed to be mocking someone, the huge grins and wide eyes gave that away. As I picked up my backpack, Chinua turned towards me. Laughing he said,
“I bet you like it with the lights off, don’t you!” Turning to Isaac, both boys burst out in animated spurts of “Ha, Ha’s”. My face immediately went red with the attention of two laughing class mates, my eyes shot to my shoes.
I hardly knew anything about the subject, but my mind was opened to the embarrassment. My virtue was stung by their jibing comments and spurred me towards angry tears. I ran to the bathroom, shut the stall door and held my wet face in my hands. My chest of innocence was pilfered that day.