When We Were Ghouls by Amy E. Wallen

Author:Amy E. Wallen [Wallen, Amy E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIO026000 Biography & Autobiography / Personal Memoirs
ISBN: 978-1-4962-0538-4
Publisher: UNP - Nebraska
Published: 2018-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

The school campus sat on twenty-five acres of lush green grass. Once at the school, the yellow bus disgorged me, and I had to find my classroom. The day before Mrs. Riley had driven my mom and me to the school in her station wagon. A woman from the office had given us a tour of the auditorium/gymnasium with Olympic-sized swimming pool, the high school buildings, the elementary school buildings, the sports field, and the administrative offices. Clusters of palm trees swished above us as we walked around the green campus. We had walked past the music room, and I recognized “Marching to Pretoria.”

Introduced to my third-grade class and my teacher, Miss Hamlin, I thought she had to be the most beautiful blond American woman after my mom. She acted perturbed her class had been interrupted, but shook my hand and pointed to my cubbyhole along the wall of cubbies to store my book bag. She turned in a circle for a moment, then she waved toward an empty desk in the middle of the classroom. “You can have that seat,” she said, disenchanted. I stared at the abandoned seat, while the roomful of kids stared at me. Miss Hamlin seemed to be waiting to get back to what she was doing. So we left.

Today would be different though. Meaning today would be even worse. Today I was alone, other than the three thousand other students getting off the line of buses simultaneously. And today I would have to stay the whole day. My heart pummeled my chest as I stepped into the melee of gray uniform–clad students. The sidewalks heading off toward all the buildings we’d been shown the day before were now a sea of gray-and-white uniforms.

I did find my classroom on the first building’s second floor. The modern architects hired to build Franklin Delano Roosevelt School had created an open floor plan of hallways and three-walled classrooms. I put my book bag in the cubicle that now had my name written on masking tape above it. In Ely we had cubbyholes where we kept our blankets for naptime. In Nigeria, we just had water bottles, and we kept those slung across our chests. Here in Lima, I placed my new leather book satchel into my cubby. It didn’t matter that the satchel was empty, I liked the buckles and soft feel of the leather. Mom had bought it for me at Sears when we’d gone to get my uniform with Mrs. Riley the day before.

A couple of girls behind me giggled as they walked toward their desks. I heard the word “gordita” exchanged in whispers. Why couldn’t I have the seat in the back of the classroom, a nice out-of-the-way invisible seat in the corner?

Before lunch, one of the junior high kids whom I had seen in the office the day before delivered a note to Miss Hamlin. Miss Hamlin didn’t even read it. She just walked over to my desk and handed it to me. “You’ve been called to the office,” she said.

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