Chapter Six
Sean and I go to a small Montessori school. Grades four through six are combined in one classroom. That allows me and Sean to be together most of the school day. I like interacting with the upper grades, and I can help with Sean when he starts fidgeting during his classes. The teachers know what to do, but I think it helps him for me to be near. I can look at him across the room and send him love through my eyes. Ozzie is with him at all times, too.
The classroom has small tables arranged in a circle because that makes talking easy. The walls are lined with shelves full of books for readers our ages. We can choose books from these shelves to read during quiet time. There are also whiteboards all around. The wooden floor is mostly covered with a bright blue and orange and grey rug. We used to go to another school where desks were arranged in rows. I like the circle design better. It makes me feel like we are all in this together, somehow, instead of separated. I can look at the face of each person as they respond to the teacher.
On one warm, sunny day, right after the whole school participated in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag, like we do every day, Sean and the other sixth graders left the classroom to get their school pictures taken. The fifth graders went to music class. While they were gone, my teacher, Mrs. Stein, called my class, the fourth graders, into another circle where we studied writing composition. I love this subject the most. I love to write, and I already work on the school newspaper. Today we worked on learning how to write a topic sentence. This was easy for me.
While it wasn’t my turn to read my topic sentence, my thoughts wandered. I felt myself pop out of my body. I flashed on an imaginary scene on the front steps of the school where I saw in my mind a fifth grader get pushed by a sixth grader. He slipped on the concrete and fell, skinning his knees. After all of us fourth graders finished the writing composition exercise, we moved on to math with the assistant teacher, Miss Millhone. Before I started on my math worksheet, I told our main teacher, Mrs. Stein, about my vision.
“I saw Randall slip on the steps and fall after Steven bumped him. Steven was calling Randall a know-it-all because he always knows the answers in class. Randall hurt his knees,” I said.
“Noah, nothing like that has happened. We teach all the students to treat each other with compassion. We are all different, each in our own way.”
I knew Mrs. Stein would not believe me. But I felt I had to tell her, just the same. I knew my vision was going to happen, and I’d hoped she’d be able to stop Randall from getting hurt. I looked down so she wouldn’t see the disappointment on my face. It seems like I am so different from everyone else. I wish things were really like Mrs. Stein said, that each of us could just be who we are, different, but the same, and that this would be okay with everyone.
Then, during recess, when the nearby teacher was distracted, it happened just the way I saw it. Steven brushed against Randall, causing him to fall down the steps. Randall’s jeans were torn on the knees. He yelped, then wiped at his eyes. I guess he didn’t want anyone to see his tears. I’m sure his knees must have been bloody, but he acted like nothing happened. None of the adults saw it, and Randall didn’t tell. I didn’t tell, either. I didn’t want to be the next one to be bullied by Steven. I looked away and pretended I saw nothing. Randall looked up at me though, and I felt guilty for not helping him. Silently, just moving my mouth, I said “sorry” to him. He had an angry look on his face and his eyes locked with mine with an accusing look. He didn’t dare look at Steven. Other kids make fun of me because I talk about weird ideas and because I’m short. I don’t know what to do about that. Telling gets me nowhere, though.
I went down the steps behind Randall and out to the playground. The school always provides a big snack bowl on a table for us at recess. After munching a bunch of grapes from the bowl, I found a baseball in the sports equipment room and asked Brian if he wanted to play pitch. While we tossed the ball, I missed some of Brian’s pitches and wobbled others. Brian never missed a ball. Never wobbled. He is brilliant in every way, I think. Sure of himself. I admire him. I wish I was sure of myself like he is. He is like a hero to me. But still, the big red ‘C’ on his chest. Why?
Brian is the pitcher on the Little League baseball team on which I am the catcher, so we need to practice together as much as possible, both during school and after classes. Then we practice with the whole team three days a week. We two are the only players on the team who attend the Montessori school. The rest of the team attends a nearby public elementary school. Sometimes, we have actual games after school, but most of the time, either we travel to another school on a bus, or they come to our school. Those games have to be on Saturdays.