Once Upon A Karma (Karmic Krystal Book 1) (11 page)

“Welcome, Krystal,” the teacher says.  Her face is kind and gentle and she has a lot of wrinkles.  With silver rimmed glasses and white curly hair, she looks like somebody’s kindly old grandmother.  This fills me with a mild sense of relief and I start to relax.  “Please find an empty desk and sit down.  The desk you choose will be where you will sit for the rest of the year.”

I sit at an empty desk on the back wall in the middle so I can see everything properly.  As each new student arrives, I try to sense how nervous they might be.  I also wonder if the teacher-biter from last year will be in my class, or even at this school, for that matter.  So far, every single student seems to be as timid as I am. Once all of the desks are full, the teacher pulls the classroom door closed and walks to her desk.  She looks at all of the new faces and tries to familiarise herself with each of us.

“Students, my name is Mrs Richmond and I will be your teacher this year,” the teacher says.  As she says her name, she writes it in big letters on the giant blackboard at the front of the classroom.  “In front of you, you will find a white sheet of paper.”  I would like you all to take out a pencil and write your own name, in big letters, on that paper for me.”

Oh crap!
I didn’t realise that this year would start off with a test!  Opening my pencil case, I see 4 lead pencils, a pencil sharpener and an eraser.  When I spy a sharp purple pencil, I quickly remove it from the pencil case and my brow furrows with concentration as I am about to write my name.  The teacher then advises the class that they need to write it with a 2B lead pencil.  Replacing the purple pencil into the case, I pull out the 2B pencil and write:

Mrs Richmond starts walking slowly towards the back of the room, watching as each of her new students write their name.  Some have problems writing anything at all, as they had not been taught how to do so prior to starting school.  One student bursts into tears because he can’t remember how to write it.  Just as the teacher reaches the back wall of the classroom, she stops and looks carefully at what I had just written on my paper.

“Krystal?  What is this?” she asks, seeming confused.

“It is my name, Mrs Richmond.  I put the purple pencil away when you said to, and now I wrote it with a 2B pencil!” I say with a smile, absolutely beaming with pride that I didn’t need any assistance.

“Do you think my class is a joke, Krystal?” she asks with a stern voice.

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand.  Why would I think it is a joke?”  I frown as I look up at her.  “I did what you said, Mrs Richmond.  If you do not like my work, please say so.  Do not try to shame me for doing what you have asked me to do.”

The teacher raises an eyebrow before taking the piece of paper with my name to the front of the classroom. 
Nope, this is nothing like my first day of kindergarten… at all!

“Class, please look here!” the teacher says.  “Krystal thinks she is some kind of comedian in my classroom.  Please know right now that any student who wants to play silly games during class time will be sent to the principal for punishment.  I do not tolerate clowns...”

Immediately I stand up and shout, “
Who
is playing games here, Mrs Richmond?  You ask us to write our name and then you try to humiliate us when we do so.  You are here to
teach
us, correct?  Instead, you try to make us feel like fools!”  The teacher and I stare each other down as the rest of the class watches us in silence, their mouths agape.  Nobody dares to move or make a noise.

“You stupid girl.  SIT DOWN NOW!” she screams back at me as she puts the paper with my name on her desk.  “As this is your first day in my class, I will give you the opportunity to apologise to me and to the class before the end of the day.”

Did you really just call me stupid? 
I sit and continue to stare at the teacher incredulously. 

She turns to wipe her name from the blackboard.  After doing so, she starts talking again, asking if we know letters in the alphabet.  As all of the students start talking at once, Mrs Richmond yells over the top of their voices that we are to raise our hands if we want to talk in class.  Immediately, her own right hand shoots up into the air.  The class giggle but stop talking.  Silence fills the room as the teacher looks quizzically at her right hand which remains above her head.  Her face turns red as she reaches up with her left hand to pull it down.  She looks at us, thoroughly embarrassed.  Just as she is about to say another word, her hand again shoots back up into the air.

“And what game is
this
called, Mrs Richmond?” I ask, unable to keep the small grin from my lips.  Some of the students start giggling.  The teacher again pulls her hand down and holds on to it with her other hand.  When she opens her mouth to speak, no sound comes out.  The class start talking amongst themselves, getting louder and louder with each passing minute.  The teacher from the next classroom walks to the door and is surprised by the sight that greets her.

“Is everything okay in here, Mrs Richmond?” the teacher asks.  The class stops talking immediately, waiting to hear what their teacher’s response will be.  They then turn to look at me, who smiles from the back of the classroom, waiting for an apology from the woman who had started off my first day by calling me stupid. 

Once again, Mrs Richmond opens her mouth to talk but the result is silence.  Finally letting go of her hand, it shoots back up and she replies, “Everything is fine, thank you, but I seem to be feeling a little under the weather.  Could you please arrange for somebody to replace me for the rest of the day?” 

“Certainly, Mrs Richmond.  I will be right back,” the other teacher says, before jogging off to speak with administration.  From the back wall, I can hear the students of the next classroom making quite a ruckus now that their own teacher is absent.

Our teacher sits down at her desk, her hand still in the air, and lets out an audible sigh.  She then looks at the paper in front of her with my name written on it.  Slowly, her eyes shift from the paper to me and we resume our staring contest.  I mouth the word ‘stupid’ in her direction before opening my backpack and pulling out a colouring book.  The teacher picks up the piece of paper from her desk and walks to the back of the room to return it to me. 

Leaning down close to my ear, the teacher whispers, “I am sorry.  You are not stupid, Krystal.  I should not have said that you were.”  I reach out and take her left hand to let her know that I appreciate the apology, but as my skin touches hers, I see a glimpse of the images inside her mind – an array of children biting, throwing things, screaming, jumping on desks.  Mrs Richmond’s students of the past had certainly not been contenders for student-of-the-year and had given her bleak expectations of her current students.  Suddenly awash with understanding of a woman filled with so much pent up anger, I feel sorry for her and let go of her left hand.  As I do so, her right hand comes down of its own accord. 

Returning to the front of the classroom, the teacher sits down at her desk once again and takes a deep and cleansing breath.  The teacher from next door’s classroom returns within a few minutes and advises that a replacement will arrive shortly and will take over for the rest of the day.

“Thank you, but that will no longer be necessary,” Mrs Richmond says, feeling both relieved and relaxed.  As she speaks, the first bell rings and the students are dismissed for a 20 minute break for little lunch.

I stuff my belongings into my backpack and run out of the door to meet my sisters at our designated spot.  Both are sitting at a table when I arrive and are excited to hear about how my morning has been on the first day of school.  One of the students in my class comes to a stop behind me, completely out of breath from having tried to catch up and hand me my little brown bag with my fruit and popper inside – something I had completely forgotten about in my haste to meet up with my sisters!  I thank the student and peel the banana after sticking the straw into my popper box.

“All good,” I simply reply.  “Everybody has learned a lot about respect this morning.  I think I am going to like this school.”  My sisters giggle as we eat our food.  As the second bell rings, Leena and Tania ask me to meet them at the same table (after collecting my brown lunch bag from the front of the classroom) so we can chat some more.  Smiling, we all wave to each other before running off to our classrooms.

When the students are sitting at their desks, Mrs Richmond says, “In about eight weeks, we will all start taking a weekly field trip.”  She hands out pieces of paper to each student.  “I would like you all to take these permission slips home to your parents.  One day of every week, our class will be taking trips to the local swimming pool so that all of you learn how to swim.  For the first four weeks, we will be using one of their outdoor pools.  When the weather cools, we will continue the lessons in the indoor pool, but towards the end of the year when it is again warm, you will be tested for your Level 1 Swimming Certificate in their outdoor pool.  Hopefully by that time, you will know how not to drown.”  Memories of when I had almost drowned two years ago come flooding back.  Somebody had saved me from death that day.  Somebody had pulled me out of the water when I had no air left in my lungs.  It was still a mystery to me, since not a single other person had been on the beach.

By the end of the first day of school, everybody in the classroom knows my name.  Unfortunately, I don’t know many of theirs.  As I am about to leave to meet my sisters at the bus stop, I walk up to the teacher’s desk.  When her eyes meet mine, I tell her, “I hope tomorrow is a better day.  Today was tough, but first days always are.  Have a nice afternoon, Mrs Richmond.”  I smile at her and she blinks, surprised, but her face quickly softens and she smiles back before I wave and run out the door, not wanting to miss the bus.

At home, we clean Mindy’s toilet business from her enclosure and go for a run around the yard with her on the leash.  She is excited that we are at home and when I sit on the ground, all tuckered out from running, she jumps up and licks my face all over.  I laugh hard as she pushes me onto my back.  I try to push her away but quickly find out that she is a lot stronger than she looks.  “Your breath is stinky, Mindy!”  I say between giggles.  She then jumps up and sticks her stinky tongue up my nose.  “GROSS!  Blaaaah!”  I start wiping the remnants of her tongue from out of my nostril as she continues to assault my face with her slobber.   Finally, Leena runs over and grabs Mindy’s leash so she can pull the drool-bag off me.  I continue to lie on the ground, laughing hard as I wipe my whole face with my sleeve.

When our dad arrives home from work, my sisters and I are in our bedrooms doing homework.  My homework is to watch Mindy closely as she sleeps on my bed and snores.  It takes all of my effort not to laugh and wake her.

“Girls, how was your first day at school?  Any problems?” Dad asks.

Leena and Tania show him their homework for the first day.  I bring out the piece of paper which my name is written on.  Dad looks at it carefully with one eyebrow raised, slightly confused.

With a curious smile, he says, “What’s this, Krystal?”

“I wrote my name all by myself, Daddy!” I reply.  His smile slowly fades. 

“Wow!  That’s great!” he says with mock enthusiasm.  “Do you mind if Daddy borrows this for a little while?” he asks.  Although it is not the response I expect, I tell him that he can keep it forever, as my first gift to him from school.  He takes some books from the adult bookshelves which are located much higher up in the living room, before retreating to his bedroom and closing the door.  I go back into my own room, climb onto the bed next to Ralph and Mindy and fall asleep until it is time for dinner.

Leena wakes me around two hours later.  The smell of the grilled pork chops makes my mouth water before I even reach the table.  Served with mashed potato and green beans, my stomach makes happy noises when I have finished eating.  Leena and Tania start to clear the table, when Dad asks them both to wash the dishes because he needs to talk to me about something.  They both nod and continue with what they are doing as he grabs the leash for Mindy.

“We can talk downstairs while we are walking her.  Is that okay?” he asks.

“Sounds like a plan,” I reply, smiling ear to ear.

Mindy sniffs the ground, the fence, and everything in between while Dad asks me if anything strange had happened at school today.  Thinking hard, I remember the incident at the beginning of the day when the teacher called me stupid.