Don't Draw Pictures You Don't Want Anyone to See...Phyllis

It was 1962. I was standing at my desk after school in my blue cotton dress that tied in a bow in the back, white ankle socks and saddle shoes. My 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Harelson, was sitting with a trash can at my desk. I knew this was coming. She had been standing behind me earlier that morning as I was frantically shoving things around looking for my spelling book.

“What’s this?” She pulled out a paper with a stick drawing of a girl with spots all over her face and big buck teeth.
“A picture of Susan”, I said. Susan’s desk was across from mine. It was a pretty good likeness.

Mrs. Harelson pulled out some more old papers. “Here’s your arithmetic paper you couldn't find last week,” she said as she slapped it down on the pile.. She pulled out an envelope and my heart stopped. “What’s this?” she demanded. “Rattle snake eggs,” I said. She opened the envelope and it jumped out at her…it was a button attached to a hair pin with a rubber band and twisted so that when the envelope was opened, the button spun around in the paper and made a loud rattling noise. It was meant for Susan. She jumped and I cringed. She threw it into the trash can.

She pulled out a wad of papers with more pictures of Susan stuck together with purple goo. “What’s this?” “Popsicle,” I said. My shame and humiliation were growing in proportion to her disgust. She pulled out a paper airplane I had made with a straight pin sticking out the tip. “What were you going to do with this?” she growled. “Throw it at Susan,” I said.

“Here’s yesterday’s spelling paper you couldn't find.” She slapped it down on the pile. “Here’s your report card. You told me your parents forgot to sign it.” She shoved it at me. “What’s this?” She held up a picture of a fat lady with glasses and a huge nose. “A picture of you, “ I said. She took a second look and threw it in the trash.

Out came more pictures of Susan, more pictures of Mrs. Harelson, the remains of a jaw breaker I had hidden, a huge wad of gum that I chewed on whenever her back was to the class, some pennies stuck together with something even I couldn't identify, an apple core, half a bologna sandwich, and a Barbie head with the hair cut off and a mustache drawn on it. She pulled out a library book, opened it to see when it was due and found still another drawing of her inside the cover. She was turning red as a hot poker and I stood and watched in silent horror as one by one she brought all my treasures and messy secrets out to the open.

When she was finished the trash can was full. My books and what was left of my papers were in a neat pile in my desk. “This is how I want your desk to look from now on. Do you understand me?” she demanded. “Yes, “ I said.

I ran home, threw my school clothes on the floor, got my blue jeans from under the bed, found one sneaker behind the door, found the other on the back porch and ran outside to play.