Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Damn! I went and wrote a post this morning! Well, it was a postette, as I was reprinting an old favorite. Hope this aging word-slinger gots some ammo left!
The word is ‘Rank’. zoe said so, as she does each week. Not say ‘Rank’ is the word, but she tells us the word that must form the nucleus of a Six Sentence Story. (No more and no less than six sentences, mind you)
So here it is at 3:00 pm Wednesday and the best I have is… ‘rank and guile’ ayiiee!
Like an eclipse of the sun, predicted down through generations in such repetitious detail as to become indistinguishable from the common sense, facts deprived of its capacity to instill awe, the shadow grew from the tall, too-bright rectangle of the open bedroom door and washed over the blanket-rumpled bed. The mother-shaped shadow broke over the boy on the edge of the mattress, untied sneakers clutching his feet.
Beyond the open door, sounds of a family preparing for the day; the delicate but insistent tapping of a razor, interrupted by the splash of running water, further in the coffee-scented distance came the soft-gravel sound of dog food filling a bowl, almost immediately followed by a scraping of plastic on wood, as the last morsels were chased.
“But why can’t I stay home,” the tremor that sat on the middle of the word, ‘home’, was as patiently defiant as a leprechaun, daring all to force the secret from him.
Crouching down before the 7 year old boy, his jacket covered with logos of teams he knew only by name, of sports he had no interest in, was tied by the sleeves around his waist, a jilted but persistent lover refusing to give up, the woman held his small hands in her own, her pride and faith no less than any Crusader advancing dutifully towards unknown lands.
“Your test scores rank you in the top percentile of reading and comprehension, you will be alright,” she spoke with love and hope, yet heard the echoes of a small girl wishing to be allowed to remain at home, the world of critical strangers and aggressive friends safely observed through curtained windows.
About clarkscottroger
untied sneakers clutching his feet. – great line!
hey, thanks
This one tugged at my heart. I liked school when I was young, though still an outsider, but as I got older I often found ways to stay home or to skip school and spend my afternoon at the park instead. My grades ranked well too, but I didn’t really belong.
the life of the Outsider is pretty… not always fun? lol… (of the three personality types of the Wakefield Doctrine) one is the result of growing up in the reality of the Outsider. It (as do the other two perspectives) make the familiar things (in life) so very different.
To me it seemed as if being one of those for whom school came easy only served to cause further alienation from fellow classmates, especially those who struggled, personal insecurities not withstanding.
what a wild and savage world grade school can be, at least in terms of the personal realities of those who are there as participants! It’s not surprising that so many (if not most) people have selective memories of that time in life.
Oh Wowza, this one really got to me…well done.
Thank you, S
No matter how smart, and sometimes especially if you are smart, school is not the place you want to be.
yeah ’cause smart is not (always) the same as being a part of, of having the capability of fitting in.
That’s it exactly, Clark.
“The mother-shaped shadow broke over the boy on the edge of the mattress, untied sneakers clutching his feet.”
Very creative imagery
The sentence evokes so much. And I can easily visualize the scene.
Heartwrenching. I can well relate to the angst that overcomes the child who does not want to go to school.
thanks
…at least clarks can
I was a smart misfit too. Very evocative story! “…in the coffee-scented distance…” Great wordsmithing there.
thank you
Very nice story. I especially like that last paragraph with the Mother remembering back to her own childhood insecurities as she tried to encourage her son.