Nate Prospero Fox
The infant’s ear piercing cries echoed and rung throughout the house in the early morning hours. The man rolled over and whispered two words into his wife’s ear- “your turn”. The woman sighed, pulled herself out of bed, cries still pouring out of the nursery. The woman crept into the child’s room. She hovered over her son’s crib. She still couldn’t believe she gave life to this little boy looking up at her with tears in his eyes. She picked up her son, wiped the tears from his eyes and thought to herself “You’re going to grow up so fast, I just know it. Soon you’ll be in pre-school, then elementary, then middle and so on and so forth. I’ll be here for you for every moment.” She blinked and pre-school was starting.
The door opened to reveal an eruption of sights and sounds of my soon to be classroom. From the pitter patter of children’s feet busily moving about the class, to the fluffy white clouds hand painted onto the ceiling above, I noticed several pairs of little eyes had put an unwavering gaze on me that would have scared the mightiest of four year olds. But upon looking down, there was a pathway of painted footprints showing me the way into the bright room of yellow and gold. Each footstep forward took all the courage I could muster from head to toe. I came to a dead halt when I noticed all the eyes in the room were pointed right at me as if they were waiting for me to do something interesting. I couldn’t take another step forward, I just couldn’t. Right when all seemed lost, a tall figure dressed in a sky blue apron walked over to me. The figure was so tall the apron barely reached his knees. Clumps of sugar and flower covered the apron like clouds flying overhead on a calm autumn afternoon. The giant got down on his knees so he was on my level now but still a few inches taller. He said something I was too nervous to understand; all I could do was nod. I could feel the gaze of my classmates leave me and move onto an oven in the corner of the room. I must have been too nervous to notice the oven was ringing. I followed the man to the oven where an aroma of something sweet hit me like a tidal wave of flavor. My mind danced around the thought of what kind of sweets candies or cookies would come out of the glowing red oven. Again the man knelt down to my level, but this time when he spoke I could understand him just fine; “They need just a little more time to cool” he said with a soft yet booming voice. At this point I was surrounded by a huddle of kids just waiting for the sweets cooling on the counter. Upon hearing the man, all the children dispersed back into the colorful maze of the classroom. When all was said and done, the only one standing there was a boy no bigger than me with hair of gold. He asked if I wanted to play blocks with him. I wanted to shout “YES” at the top of my lungs, but all I managed was a nod of the head. The woman blinked again and pre-school was done and gone.
I could feel the thin blades of grass grab rub the pads of my feet, which were turned dark brown by the mud of a mid summer’s shower. The warm rays of sun barely shown over the tops of bright white picket fences surrounding the yard. Kids swung from every tree branch within reach of their tender hands. The smell of peach cobbler floated out of the kitchen drawing the attention of both the children and adults alike. By now the final rays of warm July sun faded away the cool night air. At this point, my cousins brought out clear jars that would later light bedsides and tables by their contents. “THERE”S ONE!!” the children would shout before sprinting across the freshly cut grass to snatch lighting bugs in mid flight. After 15 minutes of running, tripping and sliding through the darkness, each picnic table had a jar of fireflies providing light for adults talking the night away. Afterwards the children would dive into hedges and behind trees as other kids would call out “Ready or not here I come!!” Laughter and giggles filled the air that night reminding each and every one of us that it’s summer - enjoy yourself. She blinked- July was September.
“Where’s the ceiling?!” a girl shouted “and we’re supposed to learn in this dump?”
“I guess it really depends on the kids not the building.” I thought. After only a few days at this new school I would quickly realize that I was with a bunch of great kids that enjoy learning. We would play football in the courtyard, joke in the cafeteria and shoot baskets in the gym. These are my friends, and this is my school, Cab Calloway School of the Arts
