The bell clanged loudly; it was time to go back to class. It was my duty, being the newest and youngest teacher at King Elementary School, in the ghetto, to supervise the children at recess and herd them back into the building when it ended.
I was busily
doing so when I noticed a little Negro girl pressed close against the
schoolyard’s iron fence, looking in from the outside. She appeared to be a year
or so younger than the children in my class of first graders. She wore a handed
down blue dress which was clean and neatly ironed, an old red jacket and
sneakers without socks. Her hair was combed and braided with care, blue ribbons
adorned each end. Her brown eyes, wide with wonder and excitement, disclosed
that she had been watching the school children play. A tiny brown finger rested
on her pale lips as if to hold back a secret wish ready to burst forth.
When the
last of my wards was safely in the door, I looked for her, but she was gone. Had
I only imagined her? As I looked around at the aging apartments across the
street, I didn’t see her, but looking down by the fence I noticed a blue ribbon
laying there on the ground! Perhaps I will see her in the school over the
coming years!
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