Devonne Brown

“Out, out brief candle,” I said.

“Shakespeare is so antiquated. They’re taking him out of the schools now. He’s irrelevant,” said Nick. My son was six.

“Can you tell a story in a thousand words or less in iambic pentameter? I didn’t think so.” 

“Just tell me a bedtime story,” he said.

“It was a dark and stormy night. The lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled, it was darker than a hundred midnights down in a cypress swamp,” He cut me off  again before I could go too far with the James Weldon Johnson.

“Mom, you’re such a dork, why didn’t you just recite the whole thing?” he asked in disgust.  

“Now you ruined a story and a poem. All I can see is the next part when he ‘spangles the night with the moon and the stars,’ I know that part by heart, get with the program, Mom,” he said.

“Oh, hush up, you little nerd, I started a great story. It would have been scary if you hadn’t known the poem. Why don’t you tell a story?” He perked right up.

“Did you know, you can see a candle light for ten miles,” he said. He knew his candle light facts. They were a big deal in his class that day. “You can run your hands through a flame and not get burned either. I watched Brooks do it.”

“Where did you watch him do it?” Crucial information by candlelight. I sensed a phone call coming on. 

His chest puffed with importance. “It wasn’t in science lab, that’s for sure. We have smoke alarms and rules about that.” He was big on following rules, and the light in his eyes told me he was bright with knowing something good. He leaned up close telling me a secret, “Beside his mom’s car out back. Don’t say anything. His mom will kill him.” Jacob’s mom and I were tight. She was the principal, and yes,  if he’d have been my boy, Jacob was a dead kid, and Nick was aware. 

The phone rang. Nick paled.

“Did you know that Nick and Jacob were beside my car running their fingers through the fire of a lighter?” my principal asked?

“It just so happens, I was just going to call you about our bedtime story tonight. Where did they get the lighter?” I asked. It was a burning question all teachers ask in these situations. Principals know these answers first. They probably have special professional developments in sussing out sneaky situations such as these. 

“Found it, was the story I got,” she said.

“What should we do? Take away their cigarettes or game controllers?” We laughed, but were not amused with the situation. We agreed on the same consequences. Educators are big on consequences for unwarranted conduct, especially for their personal burgeoning firebugs. 

Life was so unfair for six year olds in the educational system. Unlike the preachers’ kids myths, believe it or not, teachers’ kids get away with nothing.