the threads in her head

Ding ding ding dong. Dong ding dong dong. Dong. Dong.

And so the bell went off. It was the start of school, the start of school! And the little girl was frightened, she was frightened, she turned back and glanced at her mom, and her body turned round, and her legs steered her towards what was warm and comforting, familiar and family.

"Mommy, I don't want" she cried, as warm hands clasped her little out-stretched ones. But, that could not be so. Mommy calmed and comforted, told her she'll be fine, and sent her in.

And in she went into that new foreign world, with tall walls and high ceilings, big toilets with lots and lots of cubicles and sinks. Large rooms with tables and chairs, and bright splash of colours all around. A crowd of people who were shouting, yelling, running all about. Cries here and there. Oh, oh, what a dreadfully big place she was in.

With slow half-trembly steps she walked on - her heart was beating very fast and hard, she didn't know why. Her stomach felt... fizzy. Fizzy, fizzy, fizzing out. Horrible fizziness, horrible feeling.

And on she went and into her class, and there was a teacher, apple-shaped face (oh oh, is that a teacher? are all teachers like this? no wonder we give them apples) with rosy cheeks (such beautiful red, red like a red apple. so a red apple we give, and not green nor yellow). The teacher smiled and it was like the sun, so bright, so lovely, so warm.

And then she spoke, and she spoke, and she spoke, and the girl child was captured, enraptured, such lilting sweetness, melodious brightness, as if joy excitement and happiness had decided to come together to form a voice...

"Mommy mommy! Today in school... My teacher's name is... We learnt a, b, c.. She has such a nice voice.. 1+1 = 2.. Mommy, she has such a pretty voice... Mommy! Mommy! Did I tell you about my teacher..."

And the days passed so, and soon it was the end of school (Mommy mommy, is school really ending? Miss would still be here right?), and the parents had to come in to collect report cards.

"Mommy mommy! How did I do, how did I do, what did the teacher say?"

"What have you been doing my child?"

"Mommy..?" the girl child stopped her jumping, stood still, and looked up at her mom.

The news was broken most normally, but to the child it felt like the greatest of shock. Noisy, overly-talkative, hard to handle, rather difficult to find pleasure in teaching... Had she really been this horrible? Did she bring so much trouble? Did she make life for everyone? Was she really that hard to manage? She thought, and thought about it.

For the rest of the holiday, she was very, very, very quiet.