It was the third rain of the fall season in Livermore, CA. This was semi-arid country about forty miles east of San Francisco. Rolling hills of working cattle and sheep ranches and a scientific community associated with the University of California supported a nice little town.
But three rains between September and November was a lot.
I sat quietly at my desk in Mrs. Mettler's second grade class, twirling my hair and trying not to get caught looking out the window instead of at the frumpy teacher with the brightly dyed red hair. I didn't like looking at her because she had strong features, that awful red hair and her eye makeup was always sliding into the deep wrinkles in her pasty skin. Her voice was grating.
On rainy days, she took delight in turning the day away from spelling and math lessons to story telling and games. Like it was a holiday or something just because we couldn't go outside for recess. But on this third inclement day in as many months, it was apparent one story took precedence over any others.
She was telling the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff. Mrs. Mettler was narrator, all three Billy Goats Gruff, as well as the troll beneath the bridge. Two desk chairs, the only prop, represented the bridge that crossed the stream between where the goats started out and the lush green pastures they wanted to go to.
"Who's that crossing my bridge?" I remember her bellowing, as the troll confronted the first billy goat. Clop, clop, clop and she stomped her feet on the thin plywood chair seat.
Leslee, my new best friend, stood up and went to the water faucet at the back of the room. She took a long drink, wiped her face with her sleeve, and smiled at the rest of us.
"Leslee, sit down," said Mrs. Mettler in her Mrs. Mettler voice. Back to the show, she continued in a cartoon voice, "It is me, Billy Goat Gruff. I'm traveling to the lush meadow where I can become fat."
Leslee worked her pencil eraser around the formica top of her desk. It made bright marks on the surface. "Preacher Creature Teacher," she pointed and made me read it. I giggled, but stopped when Mrs. Mettler shot me a look in her evil troll character.
"You don't want to eat me. My brother is coming next, and he is bigger and tastier than I am." Mrs. Mettler hiked up her dress and stepped off the make-believe bridge. "Off with you, then, I'll eat your brother," in the troll's voice.
Leslee got up again and took a long drink from the fountain.
The second Billy Goat Gruff looked down at her from the bridge and said, "I told you to sit down."
Leslee said, "I have the hiccups. Mom says to take a drink of water when I get the hiccups." She smiled at the whole room this time.
"Sit down, Leslee. I won't tell you again."
The story of the goats and the troll continued, not a word different from the other two times we'd been subjected to it. The troll was going to get his butt kicked by the same oldest and biggest Billy Goat Gruff again.
"Leslee if you get up one more time, I'm going to tie you to your chair."
The seven year old girl hiccupped loudly and started for the faucet. Mrs. Mettler, true to her word, found three jump ropes in the closet next to the entry door, and Leslee was secured to her desk. Except for her right leg. She reached out with it and tripped Mrs. Mettler, causing her to fall with her dress rising almost to her waist.
I laughed out loud. The other children had the good sense to be quiet.
That was the first time Leslee and I went to the principal's office together. There would be repeat vists from time to time over some great idea she would come up with.
"It's not running in the hall if you're skipping."
"We can't go back to class if we're not wearing shoes. Let's throw them over the fence and say some boys did it."
"It's not destroying the Weekly Reader if you only wad it up. We can call it the Wrinkly Reader."
"Calling her Tub of Lard is not cursing. And she called me Shitass first. You saw what happened. You tell the Duty."
I think about Leslee sometimes when I've been very especially well-behaved and feel unappreciated.
She would laugh if she saw me push the walk button at a cross walk and wait for the light even with no cars in sight.
I had a particularly stressful day today, but I kept my composure every minute. I could feel my heart pounding and my temper rising up into my throat. When it was over, I left my office and walked the few blocks to my car, wishing I could let go of the knots that seem to hold me together these days.
This day, with no cars in sight and no one looking... I jaywalked in the middle of the block. But I didn't walk and I didn't run... I skipped. I got in the car, took off my shoes and threw them into the backseat.
That's better.
