I Grew Up Poor

Part 3

I reach the main road. Teacher had asked us to grow some green beans in a bottle and I have mine in my hands. My cloth bag is so full of books, files, toothbrushing mug and umbrella it is tearing at the seams. I look at the little seedlings and they seem to have grown an inch taller just in those ten minutes I take to walk to the main road.

The bus takes a long time to come. I am perspiring madly in my pinafore. I take comfort in the fact that I always get to school at least an hour before the start of class. Mom had said that going to school is important and that I must never be late. My uniform has been ironed and my shoes whitened but I do not tell Mom that my bag has holes in it.

My teacher had written in my report book that I need to learn to speak up more, and in English. I do not know how that is possible. Those Read it Yourself books are not going to help much and the only know characters I know are Peter and Jane. My classmates have all gone on to Enid Blyton and Nancy Drew. I tell myself I will need to do something about it myself, because Mom would have no clue what Enid Blyton is, just like she's too busy rearing chickens and chasing snakes to bother about the brown paper bag that teacher had instructed us to get for our art bag.

I like school but I do not like recess time where I have to sit and eat with my friends. That has always been a big problem for me. Who are my friends any way? Is it the girl who comes to tell me her secrets because I look like I may never open my mouth? Or are they the ones I sometimes play 'zero point' with? But eating is so personal. I never understand how people feel comfortable doing something so personal in a public place.

The bus is finally here.