A Cup of Comfort Stories for Teachers by Colleen Sell

Author:Colleen Sell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: stories, teachers, inspiration
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2012-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

Ant Bites

By Emmarie Lehnick

“Ow! Ow!” I shouted as I broke my jump rope rhythm and tangled my feet in the slack rope. “Something in my shoe is biting me,” I wailed.

The first graders waiting to jump and the two rope turners circled around me on the dirt playground. My teacher, Miss Bell, heard me and hurried over, leaving the other recess teacher in mid-conversation.

“It’s still stinging me,” I cried as the circle of children opened for Miss Bell.

“Which foot is it?” she asked.

I stuck up my right foot as she stooped over to inspect it. Just then, feeling a new sting, I yelped in pain.

“Here. Let’s take off your shoe,” instructed Miss Bell, squatting down to get the shoe.

Then, I remembered the holes in my socks. Welfare socks didn’t last long. Holes in socks were a common thing for our family in the years following the Great Depression. Shoes got fresh paper inserted every Saturday to cover the holes in their soles. But socks with holes were just accepted. Socks with holes in the heels got pulled down so the hole wouldn’t show. Where there was a hole, there would soon be a blister. Every week as she washed our clothes, Mama would say, “Even if we’re poor and our clothes are worn out, we can still be clean.”

I began to cry from the pain in my foot, but I refused to let Miss Bell take off my shoe. I could not bear for her and the others to see the hole in my faded red sock.

“Come on, then. Let’s go inside to the office.”

A trail of first graders followed after us until Miss Bell told them to stay on the playground. I did my best to curb my tears. Yet, each time the thing in my shoe stung me, I would let out a loud, “Oh, oh, oh!” Tears raced down my contorted face.

Mr. Stewart, the principal, rushed into his office.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Something is stinging her right foot, but she will not let me take off her shoe,” said Miss Bell.

Mr. Stewart lifted me onto his desk. “Let me take a look.” He just about had the shoe off when I saw the hole. I grabbed the shoe and pulled it on and held it. The stinging worsened the tighter I clasped the shoe.

“Why won’t you let us take off your shoe?” Mr. Stewart asked as he looked from me to Miss Bell and back at me in puzzlement.

Miss Womble, the fifth-grade teacher, came into the office. “Can I help? I know her; she lives next door to me.”

“I suspect ants are in her shoes and stinging the living daylights out of her, but she won’t let us take off her shoes,” related Miss Bell.

Miss Womble was a great neighbor. She had even played Annie-over with us on occasion. She put both hands on my shaking shoulders and looked into my distressed, red eyes.

“Oh, yes,” she said, as if remembering a fact. “I had a bite from one of those ants.

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