Reading Indy

When I was in second grade, our teacher used to make us write paragraphs on our lives. Sometimes it would be “My Favorite color” and others, it might be “The Best Christmas Present I ever Received”…you know, typical second grade topics. I hated being a typical second grader. When I wrote “The Best Christmas Present I ever Received”, I got a little off topic and ended up discussing why I wanted to throw my sister out with the trash. My teacher didn’t like me or my paragraphs too much. I did, however, make up with my sister and we are chums now.

My point is – I really hated writing these paragraphs, and after the infamous “Sister in the Trash” incident, my words conformed to typical second graderness by command of my teacher, mother and a few concerned board members.

However, this changed again, when my teacher assigned a topic that would change my life. She said:

“How about ‘My Pet’?”

When I heard that, I stopped gluing fuzzy-puffs to my forehead just long enough for inspiration to spark in my little second grade brain – I had a dog.

I had a dog. That is exactly why I existed; was for this dog. His name was Indiana Jones and he was MINE. I was so excited, I cleaned up extra fast from crafts and went immediately to work on it. I wrote straight through writing time and on into the better half of DEAR time (Drop Everything And Read). When I was done, I had written my masterpiece:

My Pet

By Me

I have a dog. His name is Indiana Jones. We named him after a famous person. I liked the movie, so my mom said I could name him that. We are best friends and sometimes we hunt in our back yard. He is yellow and brown. He has a long tail that he wags. I want to bring him to Show and Tell, but he won’t fit in my back pack. I love Indy. The End.

I couldn’t wait until I could stand up in front of the class and share my dog paragraph with everyone. When our teacher announced presentations, she sprung a surprise on all of us.

“Let’s try something new.” She said, “We will pair up with our desk buddy, and we will let our desk buddy read your paragraph to the class.”

My heart fell 3 feet to the milk-stained carpet. My desk buddy was Erwin. I didn’t like him. He had chocolate milk stains on his shirt and he always wore sweatpants. He sat around, throwing straw wrappers at me all day and getting marker on his hands. I reluctantly handed my paragraph to Erwin. He said I was a girl and that I couldn’t read his, so I didn’t have any paragraphs to read. All I could do is sit in silent anguish. When our teacher called the class back to her attention, she said she wanted Erwin and I to go first. My heart sank lower.

I stood at the front of the room with Erwin, who smelled like cheese, and started at the class.

“Okay. Why don’t you read Erwin’s first?” She looked at me.

“I’m going to read mine.” Said Erwin.

“Okay. Why don’ you read yours first, then.” She reluctantly said to me.

“I’m going to read hers too.” Erwin pulled at his tee-shirt, and something fell out of his hair.

“Well, as long as that’s okay with you, Alley.” She looked as if she felt better.

“That’s okay.” I said weakly.

“Erwin, why don’t you read hers first? You can go sit down.” The teacher suggested. She gestured me to my seat. I stumbled back down the isles and sat.

“My Pet.” Erwin said dully.

“IhaveadoghisnameisIndianaJoneswenamedhimafterafamouspersonIlikedthemoviesomymomsaidIcouldnamehimthatwearebestfriendsandsometimeswehuntinourbackyardheisyellowandbrownhehasalongtailthathewagsIloveIndyTheEnd.” Erwin took a deep breath and wiped some snot from his nose.

“Very nice, Erwin. You read so well.” The teacher looked only vaguely aware of my presence, “Why don’t you read yours now?”

Read his? Didn’t she see that my paragraph shouldn’t be read with such indifference. This was my masterpiece. There was EMOTION in this piece. He didn’t read it right! That was MY pet, INDY. He was my best friend! Didn’t he understand that…

“My Pet.” Erwin sniffed.

“MY pet’s name is Mr. Roper! He’s named after…” I ran up the isles and pushed

Erwin aside. He tumbled onto the piano bench and stopped reading.

“That was not NICE. It was BAD!” I was outraged. My piece was BEAUTIFUL. Mrs. That Was Nice had just stood by as some kid with snot on his sleeve took a stick-ball bat to my dot and beat it to death while trying to set a speed reading record.

“You DON’T read it THAT WAY!” I stomped my L.A. Gear clad foot.

“Please, don’t interrupt Erwin. You had your chance.” The teacher gave me a sweet look of death.

“I did NOT! I am going to read my paragraph!” I plucked my yellow lined paper out from underneath Erwin’s scab-covered arm, dusted it off, and cleared my throat.

“My Pet.” I paused for dramatic purposes, “By me (Alley).”

Pause, “I hae a dog. His name…His name is Indiana Jones. We, named him after a Faaaaamous person. I LOVED the movie—so my mom said I could name him that. We are best friends and, --shhhh! – sometimes, we hunt in our back yard.”

I looked up and smiled at the class. “He is Yellow and brown. He has a loooooooong tail that he wags and wags and wags. I want to bring him to Show and Tell, but he just won’t fit in my back pack. I looooooooooove INDY.”

I took a deep breath and paused once more. “The End.”

I looked up. The class stared blankly back at me. Erwin burped. Our teacher sighed and said only one thing about my life’s work.

“I think the principal would like to see you now.”