As I laid in my bed, I thought about last Tuesday. Ugh, it was horrible. I called it Terrible Tuesday. I do not understand why the art teacher surrounds herself with children if she doesn’t like us — or should I say, some of us. I think she has her favorites and they are the ones who are bullies and who get away with everything. I never understood why the art teacher never sees anything — or she says she doesn’t notice anything. How is that so, when things happen right in her face? When we all are making a commotion in her classroom?
Like always, I was minding my own business when I walked into the art class. “Wow, what a mess,” I said to myself. Dried up and different color paint was all over the floor and tables.
“Move! Emmanuel,” Michael yelled angrily.
I couldn’t believe my eyes and wondered why Riley was in my art class. Ms. Ash looked at everyone with a paintbrush in her hand and said, “We have a volunteer in our class today. He is going to help us out with a special project.”
I was thinking to myself, “A special project? Next week and one day, will be the last week of school.”
Ms. Ash continued, “I entered an art contest and I need help to complete the project in time.” She went on to say, “For those who are sitting at the table with brown paper laid on top — you all will be drawing…”
“Stop, Michael,” I said, as I was trying to listen.
Ms. Ash looked over at me, rolled her eyes and continued, “For those of you who are sitting at the table with brown paper laid on top of it, you all will be drawing the heart of our school, which is our mascot. I need the mascot to be given to me in different designs. You all can get started.”
She looked over to the left and gave the instructions to another table.
I started to draw the mascot. Riley walked over to my table, laughed, and said, “What is that? Your face?”
Michael laughed and said, “That’s what it looks like.” I didn’t say anything. I kept drawing. Riley came back over and drew on my paper. I jumped up and said, “Riley, why did you do that?”
I called Ms. Ash’s name and she acted like she didn’t hear me.
Michael drew on my paper as well. I said, “Hey, stop, you guys.”
Riley gave Michael a couple of erasers and they took turns throwing erasers at me. I asked them to stop. I called Ms. Ash’s name again, and this time, she looked over as she put up one finger, basically telling me to wait. When she looked over, Riley and Michael stopped.
Riley snatched my pencil out of my hand and threw it. I reached across the table to get another pencil, and Michael took that one as well and threw it across the room. I said, “Come on, you guys, stop.”
They continued to laugh.
I called Ms. Ash’s name again, however, she ignored me this time around.
Riley walked over to the next table and took out the pencil sharper scraps and poured them on top of my head. The entire class laughed. Sadly, Ms. Ash didn’t notice or say anything. She didn’t even look up to see what was so funny. I had had enough. I gathered my strength and picked Riley up by his shirt and slammed him on the floor.
Ms. Ash ran to Riley’s rescue as she was yelling at me at the same time, “Emmanuel! You are going to hurt him!”
I tried to explain what happened, but she didn’t care to hear the truth. Needless to say, I was sent to the assistant principal’s office. Riley and Michael didn’t get in trouble. When the assistant principal spoke to all of us, Riley and Michael told a fib. I guess since it was two against one — my truth didn’t hold enough weight.
They played the innocent role. They said I was picking on them. I tried explaining, but my voice wasn’t heard.
How is that fair?
I wondered to myself — Why wasn’t my voice heard and why do the good kids always get in trouble for defending themselves?
I got a referral for putting hands on someone and a disorderly conduct. I sat in the assistant principal’s office all day. I missed recess, the rest of my classes, and I had to eat lunch in her office as well.
