Flaunting his physical coordination skills, Mike goes too far and crash-lands his toboggan. Experiencing similar pain trying to play golf, rugby and hockey as an adult, he wonders – is there a pattern going on here?
The opening to “Competition:”
It was good to get out of the noisy cafeteria. I strolled our school’s empty, dark corridor until coming upon the monthly articles my teacher had recently stapled to the bulletin board outside our room. She’d plastered the board with the most accomplished book reports from our class. My report, as usual, was not included. Displayed above the papers was our fourth grade class picture, its white border flecked in metallic tack heads. There I was, my body buried somewhere in the middle of the crowd, my face peering out, frozen in time. Why did I have to attempt that big, big smile? Trying to unveil each and every tooth inside my silly, egg-shaped grin was only urging kids to look and laugh.
I turned away. Walking in the other direction, I meditated my lack of attributes. Surely, I had a skill somewhere inside me, but what was it? Maybe if I continued to walk the school and search further, I’d hit upon some talent I’d overlooked.
I poked around the library. My curiosity led me to a bunch of sixth graders crouched over a work table, each student contributing his or her part to a group report on the Roman Empire. Impressive. But our book room was a realm in which I had never, nor ever would, develop a talent. It’s where the smart kids dwelled. Not one of them, my only consolation was that most of the smart kids at J. Enos Ray Elementary School seemed a little weird to me.
Note: I am currently seeking representation for my book. Please see my contacts page for how to get hold of me.