7) Fear of the Front Narrative

The time long anticipated for was near, and the pack of children pushed harder and harder towards the door. RING! The bell rang, the door opened, and the children stomped forward. It was a STAMPEDE! Before I could step one foot inside the school, I was violently pushed to the linoleum floor.  One minute I was standing, and the next minute I was flat on my stomach! I layed there helplessly as the kid stampede ran over me, stepping on my arms and legs with extraordinary force.  Wet from the snow deposited by dozens of tiny snow boots, I attempted to escape.  As the majority of my first grade classmates passed over, I discovered that my shoes were missing. The shoes had been thrown right off my feet!

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Hardly a sound was heard across the desolate landscape of the schoolyard that day at recess.  The arctic wind blew fiercely as it whistled across the playground and muted any effort of sound.  Snowflakes were fluttering to the ground like a white table cloth being spread across the kitchen table. Not even the old kick balls sent over the fence into Powell's backyard could be identified underneath the blanket of snow.  The swings rocked, lonesome in the wind, as we huddled in front of the school doors of Lehi Elementary in a penguin-like formation.

 

"What time is it?" asked my friend Sara.

"When do we get to go inside?!" came the voice of the boy who always smelled like potato chips.  We all looked hopeful towards Mrs. Hobbs, the recess lady, as she studied her watch.

The reply was consistently, "A little while longer."

Luckily, my mother made me wear the coat my grandmother gave me for Christmas. It was (as most things my grandma gave me) two sizes too large.  I slipped my hands inside the draping sleeves to protect them from freezing and shattering right off my hands like in the movies.  I did not want to turn into a human popsicle. 

The anticipation grew as the population of kids grouped around the door increased.  Fortunately, I was one of the first ones to take my position in front of the pack.  I enjoyed the shelter of the building against the north-easterly wind, and the fact that I would be the first to enter the warm interior. Little did I know that I would be the subject of a historical stampede of elementary school children.

After the bell rang and I was trampled over, I tried to regain my senses as I searched for my shoes and gathered my belongings.  My coat was more stamped with foot prints than Abbie's lunch box with star stickers. I feebly recovered and survived the journey back to Miss Lavelle's first grade class.  Never again would I stand at the front.

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Today is Thanksgiving, and Grandma is reporting all of the sales she saw on the five o'clock news last night.  My mother looks up from a sink full of dishes as my aunts and uncles discuss their shopping plans. I cringe as the inevitable question approaches.  "Are you coming with us?" Aunt Crystal inquires. 

 I look back and forth between my mother and grandmother and reply, "Are there going to be snow boots?"

Although I wish it were, completely avoiding crowds is not possible.  I too have had to wait in line at the D.M.V., school assemblies, and community gatherings.  As others participate in the Thanksgiving Day shopping sprees, early morning sales, and other events that involve large crowds, I believe you will find me at the back of the line.