Sit and be quiet. Sit and still your mind but open your soul. Open your ‘minds ear’ to the whispers of spirits and hush of past characters that are in this place. Can you hear our story?
Story One: The classroom
I am the boy that sits in the classroom, apart from others. My name is not known nor does it matter. I am in this place and I am filled with wonder. The master stands tall and expounds his knowledge and make us chant the magic of the abc’s and the pattern of numbers. I know them all and my voice in my head chants along, but no sound is heard. I squeeze my eyes shut tight to stop the inevitable call to the front. Must I go through the ordeal that has become the morning ritual? My silent plea to an unknown justice falls on the floor and once again I begin the shame walk to the front. Eyes lowered and shuffling forward I advance.
But today is different. Something stirs and I raise my head and look up. Counting the steps, unfaltering, I turn and face my sniggering audience. But today is different. Today I am going to speak.
“My name is Thomas and I am 7 years old. I can tell you that A is to apple as B is to bed, even though I have to scrimp for apples from the orchard and have never slept in a bed. My name has a T to begin and ends with S and that six times six is thirty six.”
I stand proud until once again I hear the giggles and whispers emerging from the seats. I feel the shame and the frustration as my tongue will not form the words I long to say. I raise my hand for the strike. But it doesn’t come. Silently I count. At 7 I dare to raise my head. 8.. I twitch my hand expectantly, 9 I look up at the master. 10 is the grace that he offers me that day.
” Well done, Thomas. Go to your place and write your name at the top of the paper.”
Tune in tomorrow for story two.