#SOL16. No.24.
Prologue: This is my true story.
The account is completely accurate.
Names have been changed and a detailed added, but
I will share more about that tomorrow when I write about the writing.
The cat.
It was a big marmalade cat.
When I see a marmalade cat, I always remember the day my first grade teacher, Miss. Rogers, died.
She was in her reading chair—it looked like any wooden library chair only with very short legs. A reading group was gathered around her. I was at my desk like others in my group. Softly, Sally Rae slipped past me. Oh no, Sally Rae, I thought, you’re in big trouble. We were never to interrupt a reading group.
Without a word, Miss Rogers turned to Sally Rae; her pencil slipped from her fingers and clattered on the wood floor. The hollow sound echoed in our quiet classroom. All eyes were on Sally Rae and Miss Rogers. Miss Rogers leaned forward to pick up her pencil, and as she did, she slumped slowly to the floor in a heap.
Someone gasp and the room was still—very still, too still for first grade.
Then suddenly, Terry leaped up from his desk and dashed toward the hall, “I’m getting Mr. Bailey!” Mr. Bailey was our principal.
They told us to get our coats from the cloak hall, and our hats and scarves. They said it was cold outside. We lined up and walked slowly onto the playground. No one sat on the swings; no one climbed the slide; no one played on the teeter totters. No one talked.
Huddled together, we stood. We waited, watching the school door. A neighborhood marmalade cat joined us. Meowing and rubbing gently against our legs, she paid no attention to the siren and the flashing red lights. Still we waited. We saw them come out. And then the ambulance drove slowly away without a siren, without the flashing red lights.
We returned to our schoolroom, a class without a teacher.
© 2016 Alice Nine All rights reserved.
Slice of Life
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A special thanks to Stacey, Tara, Dana, Betsy, Anna, Beth, Kathleen, and Deb for a place at Two Writing Teachers where teachers and others can share their stories each Tuesday throughout the year and every day during the month of March.
Wow! Sad and so beautifully written!
Wow! Such a powerful story. I can’t imagine the impact this must have had on all of the young lives involved. Beautifully written. I too would like to know what comes next.
I read how your next post as well on the inspiration to start. It worked well, but my favorite were the lines “No one sat on the swings; no one climbed the slide; no one played on the teeter totters. No one talked.” I feel the weight all of you children must have felt from those short phrases.
Just, wow. Thank you for sharing.
Many thanks, Peg, for reading and sharing. Perhaps I will write more… someday. 🙂
I am so sorry. What a sad memory. You tell it in a way that honors her and that honors death. Somehow, maybe, the cat knew. Such an absence. I read your post about beginning with the cat too….it works so well. Sigh. x
Thank you, Amy, for sharing that it honored my teacher and also honored death. Yes, life gives us sad memories but sometimes a memory is sad because there were a lot of happy memories that preceded it.
Wow Alice, what a beautifully written story. Ironically, not a beautiful moment in time. I’m sure this event had an enormous impact on your life! Thanks for sharing.
Thanks Asper. Yes, it did. But it was positive because I had a wonderful mother who walk with me through it.
Oh my, what a horrible experience that must have been for you! Thank you for sharing this. I’m glad you finally wrote about this memory.
🙂
Thanks for sharing this memory. I really don’t know what to say, but you did an awesome job of showing the emotion and feelings involved.
Thank you. 🙂
I have goosebumps. You write so beautifully and so vividly. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been and still is to process.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. On that day, I learned I could be resilient… although at the time I didn’t know that was what you called it.
What a moving piece. You really took us into your memory. I also teach first grade and can only imagine how my kiddos would handle something like this happening. It really tugs at my heartstrings. Thank you for sharing.
You are welcome, Carolyn. You are right; our teacher hearts can’t help but be touched.
Beautiful, concise writing that made me feel like I was in the room with you. Such a sad memory that will obviously stay with you forever. Thank you for sharing.
You are welcome, and thank you for your thoughts. Yes, it is the kind of experience that makes us who we are even at a young age.
Oh my. My heart broke reading this. What a heavy burden for such little ones. <3
Thank you for sharing, Ashley. It does feel too awful to bear. But my mother was wonderful, and strong threads were woven into the fiber of my being.
Wow that is powerful! The image of the cat paired with the children on the playground creates a dark mood. Your details are so precise that place me right there with you.
Thank you, Cindy, for sharing with me. The cat did intensify the mood you felt. You will enjoy reading my post tomorrow because I share about my writing of the piece.
Wow, you stilled my heart with your post. It felt like I was there, a little girl, and it also felt like I was the teacher, proud of my little soldiers for knowing exactly what to do and how to act.
So well said. It is interesting how we can take both roles–the little girl and the teacher, causing us to feel it twice.
Wow, heartbreaking. Powerful piece that is very well written; I can see the whole thing happening. I gasped! Thank you for sharing this memory.
You are welcome, and thanks to you for sharing your thoughts and feelings.
beautifully written…you have inspired me to write about a similar tragedy in my life. thank you for sharing so honestly with us
Thank you. Please be sure to let me know when you do. And be sure to stop by tomorrow for the piece I’m sharing about writing the memory.
I too teach first grade and as I read I saw my first grade classroom, but ironically, I was a first grade student and my teacher, Mrs. Hooper was back as my teacher. I saw Mrs. Hooper’s sharp pencil, my friend Rachel in her Brady Bunch short dress walking by the reading table. Finally, I saw Mrs. Hooper slumped over a reading table. On the playground I saw the slow quiet bodies of my first graders moving without sound staring at the lights and then the cat. I felt the loss, I wonder what happens after this. How do first graders move forward?
I too will think if this beautiful piece when i see a marmalade cat.
Thanks, Deb, for sharing your response as you read– how you thought of your classroom and of your first grade teacher and friends.
Even though I knew the outcome of your story from the title..I was captured and still sitting on pins and needles and you so eloquently unfolded the moment. Tragedy can be so hard to write about. Thank your for being brave and telling this story as well.
Thanks for stopping by and taking time to share with me. I hope you come by tomorrow to see some of my thinking as I worked on crafting the writing–searching how to start, searching for my tone.
So well written but oh so hard a memory! You take us step by step with the clear sounds, and actions that bring forward the emotions. The mellow everyday motions of the cat make a great contrast to the internal feelings. I must say I want to know more.
Thank you for sharing, Joanne. I think you will appreciate as a writer/reader what I share about the marmalade cat tomorrow
Oh, my! What a memory. It has obviously been etched into your heart. You told the story in a mesmerizing way. I felt like I was there with you, watching your classmate walk across the room to disturb the reading group. My breath hitched as you pained the picture of a class of first graders bundled in coats, waiting outside to see what had happened to their world. You had a powerful story to tell, and you told it beautifully.
Yes, Erin, etched is a good word. Thank you for sharing your “reading experience” with me.
What a beautifully written piece. First, I have to speak to your experience. Wow. How brave you all were and what a difficult (that word is nowhere near enough) experience to live at such a tender age. My heart was in my throat at the title. I love how the cat weaves in and out of the experience (literally and figuratively). Beautiful.
Thank you! You will appreciate my piece tomorrow about “the marmalade cat” 🙂
Can’t wait!
My heart. What a memory to have made. What a way to go with her boots on. What a lovely way to write about your experience. Thank you for sharing this with us.
🙂 I love it– “With her boots on!” Thanks for saying so. It reminds me of someone special to me who always said he “wanted to go with his boots on, dancing with a pretty lady”– and by George, that is exactly what he did!
Your memories of that day are so clear, and you delivered this Slice in such a mesmerizing way. I hate that at such a young age, you had to experience this. I am sure that throughout your childhood and now in adulthood you think about this a lot. Thank you for sharing something that must have been so difficult to re-live.
Thanks, Katie. There is never an easy time for some things, is there? My mother was wonderful; she didn’t shield me, but walked beside me. And what I learned then has helped me through other difficult times.
My heart is beating so quickly…. powerful topic and powerful writing. I too will always remember your story when I see a marmalade cat. I will be back tomorrow to hear about the process! What a hook!!
Clare
Thanks, Clare. I think you will enjoy what worked for me in the writing.
How brave of you to write about this. The picture is great – 36 children! I’d love to read more about what came next…
Thank you. Isn’t it amazing–that many in a first grade classroom. I remember desk and chairs, there wasn’t room for much else. 🙂 Tomorrow, I post the picture again with a yellow circle around me.
What a powerful experience. You tell it so well. The details, the pencil, the coats and scarves and the teeter totters. The cat. Thanks for sharing this.
Thank you for stopping by, reading and commenting.
After all these years, this is a poignant and vivid memory. How difficult it all must have been to witness. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for taking time to read and comment.
Wow … I can picture the whole scene so vividly, and felt frightened as I watched it unfold. That must have been unsettling, to say the very least, and at that age, the fragility of life is mostly an unknown element — we assume that everyone on our lives will be here now and forever. I look forward to the “writing about the writing” tomorrow …
Kevin
Thank you. That was when I learned that everything that lives must die. See you tomorrow.
This is such a finely crafted piece from start to finish. Each line stands strong and powerful to create a whole that captures this horrible, frightening moment so well. I can see all of you on the playground, huddled, not playing, and watching the ambulance come with lights flashing and leave without. Beginning and ending with the marmalade cat is such a contrast. Your writing shines but I’m sorry that such a sad, scary memory was the genesis of this slice. I look forward to reading your next slice about the process involved.
Thank you for sharing with me.