Dreamy Kid

This story is a joke on myself, but then all our stories might be that if we look at them with the right eyes. I was in the fourth grade at Dawson Street School, just a few blocks from the house where I was staying with my grandmother and grandfather (my father was often between jobs and my grandparents would take us in).

This particular morning, I dressed to go to school. It was a cold morning and we walked to school in those days so I made sure I wore a sweater. I meandered along with the other kids cracking ice in the puddles with my feet and with rocks and sticks as I went. When I entered my class room, I went to the back to the cloak room (that's what we called it in those days though no one I knew wore a cloak) and began to take off my sweater. To my surprised horror, I had forgotten to put on a shirt. I was a dreamy kid and still am. I hastily buttoned my sweater back up and took my seat. Saved! No one had noticed. The bell rang and the school day began.

Then there was the fateful knock at the door. All eyes turned in that direction. The teacher opened it and one of the sixth graders stood there and handed an item to the teacher saying in a loud voice I was sure could be heard all the way over in Alabama, "Richard forgot to put on his shirt!" Laughter everywhere as my true state of consciousness was revealed. No place to hide. The walk back to the cloak room with my shirt helped me later to understand the Stations of the Cross.