Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 173

You guys,

I was in 2nd grade when my mom got a call from the school. 

“Hi Mrs. Bleecker! We’re calling to inform you that the school will be donating our Thanksgiving turkey to your family this year.”

There was a stunned silence before my mom responded, “Uh, why?”

“Each year we donate a turkey to a family in need.” 

My mom looked at me as she spoke into the phone: “We already have a turkey, thank you,” and hung up. 

Soon after that, Mom had a meeting with my second grade teacher, Ms. Crow. 

I loved Ms. Crow. She was large and round and always gave out hugs. My face would go right into her big bosom as if it were a soft pillow. She smelled strongly of perfume. I don’t know what the smell was but every once in a while, I still catch a whiff of that pungent scent and think of her. She taught us how to spell dinosaur by skipping around the classroom and singing the letters as loud as we could. I still remember the tune.  

She also gave me free snacks. We had to bring our own snacks for snack time, but I never liked my options at home. Carrot sticks or celery sticks with peanut butter. We never had the good stuff at our house, like Doritos or Tastycakes. Dunkaroos didn’t enter our home until middle school, and even then, I had to ask if I could open the box. I’d stand at the bottom of the stairs and scream up to my mom, who was still getting ready for work.

 “MOM!!!! Can I open the Dunkaroos??”

“NO!”

I’d groan and slink my whole body forward, sad about the contents of my paper brown lunch bag.

So in 2nd grade, with no interest in raw vegetable sticks, I wouldn’t bring anything to school for snack time. I sat at my desk and looked around the classroom like a sad puppy dog until Ms. Crow discreetly called me up to her desk and offered me a pack of crackers. I ate them ravenously, and when Ms. Crow asked why I didn’t bring a snack from home, I told her we were poor. 

It’s not that I was lying. I really thought we were poor. From my 2nd grade perspective, for whatever reasons, including my snack choices, we were poor. 

Ms. Crow sat at her large teacher’s desk. Mom sat across from her but much lower, smooshed into one of our tiny classroom desk chairs. It was their first time meeting each other. 

When Ms. Crow explained what I had been telling her, my mom calmly responded that Ms. Crow had been misinformed. We were not poor. In fact, we had two Thanksgiving turkeys in the freezer. 

Ms. Crow blinked. “Mrs. Bleecker, I half expected you to walk into this meeting barefoot the way your daughter told it.”

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Until next week,

Charlie