I swear it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t hear what she said but it was still traumatizing. In order to understand the story you have to know the characterization of the few involved.

Mrs. Paxton was a strict kindergarten teacher at The Learning Tree. Now that is one- hundred percent fine as long as you are understanding along with it. I loved it when I was one of Mrs. Paxton’s favorite children. Her favorites varied week-to-week and when this Asian girl showed up and took all her attention, in a way I was jealous of this Asian girl, but Mrs. Paxton was the teacher and should know better than to pick favorites (accept when it’s me).

Ms. Jennifer I had known as a yard lady but she very well could have been a teacher. In kindergarten your view of the school doesn’t extend past the views of the people you know in your class. Ms. Jennifer was a nice, fair lady who believed in the kids. She was very “artsy” and loved Beyonce.

My Mother. Now if you haven’t met my mother or haven’t been of any importance to her, she would be the sweetest, average, white mother. When you get to know her though, that’s when she becomes the scariest person you ever met with just a look.

The story goes...

Mrs. Paxton took us kids (about seven of us) who were in their last year of kindergarten outside to play as a treat instead of going into boring old naptime. I felt privileged to be one among the seven that she picked and vowed to always stay privileged. We were all having a good time chasing each other around the blue metal playset in the hot sand. We were throwing pinecones and even Mrs. Paxton was happy, laughing, and smiling.

After a while of running, laughing and sweating our eyes out, she told the other kids to “stop” but I did not hear this proclamation so I carried on; screaming and happy to be playing. My first clue probably would have been that the other kids who were just as excited to be playing as I just stopped being so playful. Mrs. Paxton saw me with a pinecone in hand and yelled at me. I felt so ashamed and embarrassed to be yelled at after she had made this wonderful gesture to bring a couple kids out to play instead of going in for nap time. I said to her crying with a red puffy face, a face full of shame and embarrassment, “I am sorry. I didn’t hear you!” She accused me of lying and sent me inside to go to naptime.

All the way to the room I tried to control myself and wipe the tears. It seemed like the shortest walk of my life. I hadn’t even finished wiping my tears and, BOOM, I’m already back. When I went inside Ms. Jennifer asked me, “Why aren’t you outside playing with the other kids?”

Me being too embarrassed to admit I was yelled at told her, “I was tired and wanted to come in.” It was a really big lie because I was always the kid with the most energy even as a kindergartener. Ms. Jennifer smiled at me and told me to find an empty mat.

Mrs. Paxton comes in later and is talking to Ms. Jennifer and I can only assume about me, because no more than a minute later, I am getting hounded and scolded at in a whisper by Mrs. Paxton. In a raspy voice she she said rhetorically, “Not listening and lying? Really Sara?” She turned around and called someone on her phone. My hatred for her grew from that moment on.

As she exited the room, I started crying again, the silent type of cry. She came back in and said, “Sara, come with me.” I looked to Ms. Jennifer for help, a plea of desperation, but she avoided eye contact. Finally, after a long moment, I put my head down and followed like a sad puppy being sent outside, because they destroyed the trash can and put trash all over the house.

I had never been to the principal's office before or met the principal therefore I was naive to the severity of the situation. My mom was called in and I can’t remember anything that happened after I saw the look on her face and the intensity in her eyes.

That was the first time I had ever been in trouble and I still feel awful about it. Ever since then I have learned a couple of things. I learned to listen more, be a teacher's pet and never be out of earshot.