The Sudden Year of Milton

"Tell me why you thought it was okay for you to call Jimmy a dumb-ass." said Mrs. Davidson asked me. I must admit that when she put it into the form of such a simple question, I was almost insulted. To think that we live in a world where one must be questioned and punished for such a simple slip of the tongue was downright appalling.

"To be honest, I can't understand why I'm being reprimanded for such a minor infraction. The sun is shining and I do believe I have earned twenty minutes of it's warm embrace. I have done my work for the day and withdrawing someone's break from them to converse over an incident such as this, an incident that should require the aid of Human Resources I might add, is simply unheard of." I replied, doing my best to dull the sharpness of my tone.

I could tell by the way she set her eyes on me that she was having none of it. To reason with the unreasonable was an art that rivaled that of Van Gogh. You could be truly amazing at it, but eventually you'd be better off lopping off an ear and dying alone. No one would appreciate your attempt until you were long dead anyhow. But I digress.

"Okay, you have me dead-to-rights. I admit it. It was a heinous verbal assault, and though I still believe his actions warranted a tongue lashing, I will issue an apology to James upon his return." You have all the cards, now deal me out. 

I remained seated, bathing in the intense stare she put forth and soaking it in. I had taken the high road. I had blatantly lost control and dubbed the young man a dumb-ass, but my god! The dimwitted child had colored the cat blue! Blue! The thought of living in such a world simply made uneasy. 

"Milton...you're seven years old!" Mrs. Davidson finally responded after several moments of silence.

I sat completely still, simply shocked by low-blow that this woman, this educator of youth, this...this self-proclaimed World's Best Teacher, dared to strike me with.

"And that would be age discrimination, madam! I will have no more of this and see myself to the door!" My anger was clearly visible by the redness of my face. My freckles that were once seen as cute, adorable even, must now look like tiny dots of rage, burning with energy "Good day!" I said as I exited the room and headed for the playground. Life always seemed simpler when looking at it from atop the monkey bars. The cool air brushed my face as I closed my eyes and let it wash away my heated rage.

My shoes touched the sand and I immediately felt young again, Oh to be six again I thought to myself as I tromped over tiny dunes, finally reaching the bright green ladder. My hand grabbed onto the bar as I felt a hand grab onto my shoulder. I turned at once, expecting a confrontation with a rather rude young boy named, Samson. You can imagine my surprise when I actually turned to find Principal Stephens looking down at me.

"Milton, come inside with me please." he asked me with an almost concerned tone. He was a good man and I believed troubles at home had often times taken away many hours of much needed sleep, and so as to not further burden this balding, depressed, and rumor has it, impotent man, I accompanied him inside. 

I gently patted his hand, "It's gonna be okay." I assured him as the doors swung closed behind us. 

The walk to the Principals office was a leisurely stroll at best. I had made many a suggestion on spacing out the drinking fountains to more convenient locales, but I fear my presentations were lost in inner-school mail system. I dubbed that the last time I relied on paper media to express a better format for my fellow students. I had brought it up to my good friend, Nicolas, during one of our daily outdoor breaks, but I fear his mind was too occupied with the practice of pulling the wings off of various Insecta Lepidoptera. He assured me the issue was quite trivial and we agreed to speak no more of it.