She's Like a Fawn

Here's something that will get me back into the writing groove. I'm going to join a few of my friends and participate in the monthly topic project. Here's January's topic: "Describe a funny or embarrassing incident from your elementary years."

My younger bother will tell you that outside of school, I was a playground bully. No, I did't go around beating up other kids. I wasn't that tough. But, if you messed with me, my brother, or our friends, I'd throw your shoes over the fence into the pool. If you bring your coloring homework to the playground, I'd rip it to shreds.

School was a whole different story. I was the opposite of my playground persona. I remember overhearing my first grade teacher tell my mom during open house, "R is so quiet. She's like a fawn." I was quiet and meek.

I remember one chilly day in the second grade, our class piled into the classroom after our afternoon recess. As I settled in my seat in the front row, Ms. La Roux began her social studies lesson. I was still cold from playing outside, and I left my quilted winter coat on. I started to feel really nauseous, and I was no longer paying attention to what Ms. La Roux was saying. Because I was too shy to raise my hand and excuse myself to the restroom, I just sat there hoping that the wave of nausea would pass.

A few minutes went by, and I couldn't hold it any longer, and I puked all over my desk. I looked up at Ms. La Roux, and she just went on with the lesson. I looked at my seat mate, and he was looking straight ahead. I looked all around me, and not one person heard or saw me throw up. How did anyone not here me retching? Did I puke that quietly? Were they allthat much engrossed in the lesson?

I could feel the heat of embarrassment rise to my face as I quickly tried to figure out how I could hide my little accident. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to me. So, I hunched over my desk and used my arms to hover over my puke. I don't know how long I sat like that, but my arms started to hurt from holding them at that position, and it was at that point when I finally raised my hand and said, "Ms. La Roux? I threw up."

The whole class broke out in shrieks, but I was too sick to care. She excused me from class, and my mom came to pick me up shortly thereafter.

So what did I take away from all of this? Speak up to avoid any embarrassing situations.