Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Pen and Paper (07/17/14)
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TITLE: The Boy and the Battleaxe | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marlene Bonney
07/23/14 -
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“Furthermore, Mr. Keith, your failure to participate in class, except for repeated interruptions and snide remarks, along with your lack of homework, has ultimately landed you here with me. AND, unless you want to be expelled from St. John’s Christian, you WILL toe the mark here,” peering over the rim of her thick glasses.
Seth, squirming like a biology specimen under a microscope, “But, you can’t do that! I would lose the soccer scholarship for college!”
“Ex-ACT-ly! So why don’t you take a seat and get started?" she smirked, “here’s a brand new pen so you won’t run out of ink.”
“I WILL DO MY HOMEWORK AND TURN IT IN EACH DAY,” he printed sloppily across the lined white paper. Every now and then, like a furtive fly, the old lady crept up behind him to look over his shoulder at his progress. This taking longer than he expected, Seth nervously glanced at the digital clock on the wall above the antiquated chalkboard. He quickly finished, laying the filled sheet of paper on the teacher’s desk and stood there awkwardly, hands stuffed in his holey jeans’ pockets, awaiting his dismissal.
“Mr. Keith, you are NOT a third grader! I assume you can write like the adult you think you are! Therefore, this printing, and messy at that, does not impress me in the least,” plopping another blank sheet of notebook paper on his desk like a triumphant magician, “cursive, my dear, cursive!” the old geezer demanded.
Seth took one long look at the determined woman’s wrinkled face and swallowed a belligerent retort. All his regular teachers required printing because it was more legible and now this old goat wanted the opposite?
“Okay, she wants cursive, she’ll get my best handwriting,” he mumbled internally as he quickly dashed off the required statement.
“Uh, Mr. Keith,” interrupting his frenzied scrawling, “I WILL be able to read your writing, is that clear? And, I will also warn you that I will be checking your spelling and punctuation. If it is not up to my standards, I have a whole ream of paper and several brand new pens. . .”
Slowing down considerably, Seth put more diligence into the assignment, painstakingly dotting all the “i”s and crossing all the “t”s. He held it up to check it over and was almost proud of how neat it looked. He tiptoed up to his despot’s desk, not wanting to disturb her reading, she appeared so engrossed in its contents.
“Oh! Yes, Mr. Keith! Let’s take a look at your work.”
Seth glanced at the clock—drat! He was going to miss practice. Coach was adamant about being on time or not bothering to come at all.
“Well, well, Mr. Keith. It appears that you are a capable young man, after all! Now, if you were to, say, ‘turn over a new leaf,’ and turn in homework resembling this, you just might be able to graduate from these hallowed halls and be awarded your coveted scholarship, after all.”
Seth, clearly embarrassed, shuffled his feet toward the door.
“Oh, Mr. Keith,” she drawled, “I may have failed to mention that Coach Greene has canceled this week’s practices—something of a family emergency. Feel free to come here for a visit and we can catch up on old times. . .”
Mr. Keith sucked in his breath as Mrs. Bradford wobbled down the hall, her Bible in one hand and old pocketbook in the other, looking all the world like his godly grandmother the last time he had seen her.
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