Every Eagle Needs Wings

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
March 27th 2008

Submitted: April 27, 2008

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Submitted: April 27, 2008

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Mr. Markworth was adored by parents for his consistent, well rounded attitude and his impressionable academic influence on the countless grade six children he taught. He was never oblivious of anything that went on in his classroom. In front of the room, standing by the black board chalking the word “Motivation”, he captured the attention of the classroom somehow. They watched him as if he was as interesting as a fluorescent pink penguin doing back flips. Though, he was merely a cheery man writing a single word on the coarse black surface. His positive energy had a peculiar effect on the youngsters: it caused them to listen as he molded ideas in their heads.

In fact, most of the grade sixes were quite absorbed into the magnificent lesson. However, one student was particularly withdrawn from it; Carter was always bemused with other thoughts. It wasn’t that he was one of those negligent types that refused to conform. He liked school. He just always found himself lost somewhere else inside his imagination when Mr. Markworth was talking. His frequent disregarding of lessons had resulted in many letters of apology and phone calls to his mom.

The curtains of the classroom were closed so that at first glance you couldn’t tell it was a slushy winter day. The walls were rugged, white and every inch filled with a wide assortment of displays from articles on physical education to pictures of space. The room was very silent except for Mr. Markworth’s voice and the occasional cough or squeak of a shoe. Even the classroom’s clock was silent because its batteries had recently died.

“…And why do you think people become depressed?” Mr. Markworth was saying. “Naomi?”

“Um,” a girl at the back of the room replied, “Some people are –like– really afraid that –like– people are dissing them and stuff.”

“That’s a good point, Naomi. In fact, some people are so insecure and anxious of what others think about them that they would do almost anything to impress them…”

Carter’s eyes swayed away from the lesson again. He noticed the slow turning of the classroom door’s doorknob. Everyone secretly found it hilarious that every time Charles, their student teacher, was late. He attempted to get in the classroom as quietly as possible and, every time, the door gave a husky creak! He would always apprehensively walk up to Mr. Markworth, muttering apologies, and grab a load of papers to photocopy. Today was no different: he hesitated in the doorway, noticing his noisy entry had caused the children’s attention to scatter, then quickly accepted some paper and exiled himself to the photocopier room.

Charles was an absent minded wreck. He was rather bright and made it into university easy but the career path of teaching had been worrying him because of the necessity of organization. However, after being stuck inside KingEdwardsPublic School (home of the Eagles) for a good month he had picked up a few things and enjoyed himself. The photocopier jammed on the first two tries but on the third try he made his copies and returned to the classroom.

Entering, Charles noticed some time had gone by whilst was banished to the photocopier room. It was now lunch and the kids were eating. He quickly gobbled up his own lunch and began marking spelling tests. Within a couple minutes, he noticed a kerfuffle happening between a boy by the name of Devin and a girl name Brittney.

“Eww!” yelled Devin, flinging a three ring binder off of his desk, “Brittney’s binder!”

A couple of other children around them snickered. It wasn’t the first time Charles had seen Brittney receive this treatment. They excluded her because of some of her annoying verbal tendencies. Charles often felt sorry for her and kept his own annoyance a secret.

“Devin,” Mr. Markworth warned, “Pick up Brittney’s binder and apologize.”

Devin quickly obeyed and Brittney accepted the apology and pretended to instantly forget what had just happened to her. Charles smiled to Mr. Markworth but was only returned a sigh.

“Alright,” Mr. Markworth announced, “It’s recess. Everyone get your stuff on and go outside.”

The class was quickly emptied of kids happy to be temporarily ousted into some fresh air. Mr. Markworth approached Charles and nodded his head impressed with the pile of spelling tests he had marked so efficiently.

“Is it always like that?” Charles asked. “I remember there was a girl we always used to pick on when I was in primary school.”

“Yes, every year. There always seems to be one kid in particular that everyone rejects…”

“I feel bad for her.”

“Yeah, I know. All you really can do is tell them to stop. You’re doing a good job, keep up the good work.”

Charles watched the field through the classroom windows at recess. Some boys were playing a game that involved daring each other to run over and push Brittney. He noted that one of the boys that were particularly into the game was Carter and decided he was going to tell Mr. Markworth about him after school.

* * *

Brittney didn’t mind it when Carter pushed her. He never pushed that hard. Some of the other boys flat out knocked her over and made her cry. Carter only gave a gentle shove to impress his friends but not to hurt her. He didn’t hate her like everyone else did. She remember a time in grade three, when he was actually friends with her, they had both been mortified by some older boys trying to hit a pair of doves with rocks. They both had been in tears when they told the teacher what was wrong.

Brittney didn’t mind a lot of things. She didn’t mind being omitted from the other girl’s social activities. Her parents, the internet, and her books all told her it was overrated anyway. Though, sometimes they did really seem to be laughing and having a good time. Brittney believed that one day her real people would come in a space ship and take her home. She was just merely visiting this world… this reality.

The bell commanded everyone to go back inside. Brittney reluctantly went back to the classroom she felt she had just left. School always confused her. There were too many people and too many ideas to fit into her already busy mind. The classroom was bustling with noise until a sudden gasp of surprise fell upon the children.

The room became silent, except for a couple nervous laughs, as Carter dropped to his knees, wheezing heavily and clutching his throat. He gave a painful, muffled cry as Charles rushed over asking what was wrong. Brittney was utterly shocked; everyone was shocked.

“He’s allergic to peanuts!” shouted Mr. Markworth running into the room.

Charles ran over to Carter’s desk, grabbed his pencil case, ripped the Epipen out of it and thrusted it into Mr. Markworth’s hand, “You do it. You do it.”

The whole event was over as quickly as it started. Carter was sent to the hospital and the class had a discussion about the importance of bringing peanut-free lunches to school. Brittney wasn’t listening; she was too busy worrying about Carter. She wished she could help him. His face had been really puffy when they took him down to the office. She suddenly had an idea.

An hour and half later, school was almost over and kids crowded around Mr. Markworth and Charles trying to get their agenda signed first. Cheers and chatter swarmed the room and swiftly left it after the bell went off signaling the end of the day. Brittney, however, didn’t leave.

“Time to go home, Brittney.” Charles urged with a friendly smile. He always was nice to her, most adults were.

“I know. I just don’t like when people are hurt, you know. I can’t stand it when people are hurt. Carter got hurt and I can’t stand it.”

Charles was about to reassure her when she pulled out a piece of paper filled with writing. “What’s that?” he asked.

“A get well soon card.” Brittney said. “I made it for Carter. Will you sign it?”


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