A day at school

It has been a week since we have been residing in Alcuin town. The last couple of days have been nothing much more than fun and excitement. I got to engage in multiple activities, such as going on a tour to the cultural museum. My sister and I even got enrolled in a primary school and a gymnastics school. Our first day at Alcuin Town Primary was quite challenging, since we didn't have schools back in Wahuj island, but our parents would home school us back then using different methods.

At school, all the students wore the same uniforms. Our uniform was a combination of the colors red, white, and black, similar to the colors of the Saint Krex national flag. The girls wore a white short-sleeved blouse with a black and red stripe pleated skirt three inches below their knees. Meanwhile, the boys wore a white buttoned, long sleeve shirt with black and red pants three inches below their knees. Some of my pairs hated this as Alcuin Primary was the only school with this feature and students from different schools would ridicule us for it. The nearby school thought that the school should be sued for dressing its students like mascouts. But anyway, I liked it. I'm sure I hated the pattern, but I like the idea of being properly attired. It signifies a type of decency in an individual.

Even though we knew the alphabet and the numerals, we had trouble learning to manipulate the pencil and write on the correct side of the paper. Holding the pencil was such a pain, as we were only used to writing with pointy stones on the sand or in the mud. My aunt learnt to read through the fantasy genre novels she loved as a child. Wahuj Island was very much uncivilized; there was no technology, no pencils, no decent houses or beds.

The most important of all, it had no electricity or running tap water. Everything there was natural and made by our creator. Some days, I would sit on my bean bag staring through the window of my bedroom, reminiscing about the times we spent on Wahuj Island. swimming in the sea, hunting pigeons, feeding rabits and swinging on the vines of the mangrove trees. As the seasons change, so do the crops for harvesting.

But, out of all the trees, out of the cultivation, there was no other tree I feared the most, other than the coconut tree. It had a tall slender stem with a hard ridged bark, and its leaves were somewhat similar to those of palm trees. The tree itself had an elegant structure and look, but what I disliked was the vicious fruits it reproduced. These fruits may appear green or yellow in colour, with a hard shell. The cause of this fruit falling onto someone's head could lead to a concussion. I know this for sure, as it happened to our village chief back at home. On a windy morning, poor old Sam was waking under the tree, heading to our cherry tree orchard when the coconut tree struck after poor old Sam's head with one of its savage coconuts. Poor Sam met his brutal death at the age of ninety-one.

Though I feared and hated the coconuts, we drank them whenever they were cut open. There was no other water that was cool and sweet like the coconut water. Its natural components were what I thought made it the best. Also, I hated the taste of the inside part known as the meat or the flesh. I had no reason for it, but I disliked the flavor. While everyone else would scoup it up and eat it with sugar, I would throw it away.

My second day at school was likely quite unexpected for me. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Hempton, was not an easy nut to crack. She had no patience with children and shouted at us if we were having it hard to complete her tasks. I remember the day she called me up in front of the class to answer a question. It was embarrassing and heart-aching. Our first lesson was science, the subject that I solely tried my best at but hated the most.

Mrs. Hempton asked for volunteers to label a chart and no one stood up. Because of that, she decides to call up any student randomly. Hearing that made my heart pound.

Please don't call on me! Please don't call on me! ,I repeated to myself

Just then I heard:

"Lacey, could you come on up and label the parts of an insect for me?" said Mrs. Hempton.

And at that very moment, I started to shiver. My anxiety became uncontrollable. Sweat was running down my face and I sat still as if I was glued to the chair.

Every moment when I was considering what to do, I remembered that I had a brilliant, outspoken twin sister that would not back down from helping me out. I squinch my eyes, signalizing to my sister that she should identify herself as me and label the chart. Lucy-ann did exactly that and correctly completed the chart. an expert; she did exceptionally well and was applauded. For the first time, I wasn't jealous of her accomplishments. After all, she helped me out, or so I thought.

Lucy took a seat, I heard.

"HA, you girls thought you could fool me?" said Mrs. Hempton.

"You thought that I would not know, uh?" Mrs. Hempton.

"You know what?" I asked in shock.

"That Lucy is pretending to be you Lacey!" said Mrs. Hempton.

"Nice try, but no one gets away with nothing! not even identical twins! "Mrs. Hempton.

"But there was nothing we did wrong." explained Lucy.

"Oh, quit lying, you both are on detention!" shouted Mrs. Hempton.

"But I can explain", I said.

"The only explanation you should be giving now, Lacey, is to tell the class about the digestive system!" said Mrs. Hempton.

Has I stood before the class. All eyes were on me. It was like I was the spot light of a concert. I tried as hard as I could to recall the justification, but my brain seemed as empty as a broken man's wallet. Instead of trying to guess what to say, I instantly gave up and only said, "I don't know."

"As I thought, you don't know anything and you never will !" said Mrs. Hempton.

"Now both of you, leave my class!" screamed Mrs. Hempton.

While at detention, we were told that this detention would have a permanent record on our transcript for life. From the perspective of our seven-year-old brain, those words used sounded like rubbish to our ears; after all, we did'nt understand the importance of it anyway. The only thing that did was the fact that we did'nt know how our parents would react to this unpleasant news. As a result, we conceal the letters that the vice principal insisted we give to our parents.

Perhaps today was our unlucky day. When we got home, as usual, our parents asked how our day was, and as expected, we lied.

As we tipped-toed up the stairs with our letters hidden under our blouses, Mother called us.

"Girls, do you have something to give us?" asked my mother.

"Ummm no" said Lucy-Ann and I.

"You sure? "Because your teacher because, Mrs. Hemptom, gave us a call today", said my father.

"She told us what you two did, so give us the letters that you were supposed to hand your father and I" , said my mother.

"Its in our bags upstairs", I said.

"I can't believe you two! On your second day! " said my mother.

"We didn't do it on purpose", I said.

"We don't want to hear it, Miss. Lacey-Ann Maxwell!" shouted my mother.

"Go to your rooms and think about what you both have done wrong! we will be coming for those letters", said my father

My parents read the letters from our teacher and signed their signature on them. The next day of school was quiet embarassing. As of that day, my sister and I never liked our teacher that much as much as we did before. We were dying for the second grade to end, even though it has just begun and soon enough, we started to dislike our class peers. They would make fun of my sister and I. My classmates gave us names such as: double trouble because, we tricked the teacher into think which of us was which. They also called us the emo twins. Even though we did not dress like a emo, our act or behaviour at school seemed like such.We were introverted and antisocial. We did'nt make any friends, we did'nt talk much to niether teachers or school mates. The only companion I had was Lucy-Ann. We went everywhere together and had lunch together. Teachers felt concerned about this drastic change in our behaviours since when we first started school untill the present. My parents were called in to our school several times not because we ran pranks on our teachers but because, we seemed isolated and stressed to our teachers. My parents found it odd because, my sister and I was totally different at home. We talked much and was very lively at home. The teachers were concerned and wanted to know the fault about our behaviour in school. We were questioned untill we gave in. My sister and I told the councelor every information. They were quiet shocked to hear and was determined in trying to change our approach to school. At first, My sister and I wanted to spite our teachers in not changing, but perphaps we should change and stop messing around. After a month of councelling, my sister and I finally decided to prove our teacher that their councelling worked and that we are changed lives. It was hard at first to start participating in our classes again but, I got to get a hang of it and face my fears.

For the remainder of that week, we were grounded. All our toys and games were taken away. Our only source of entertainment were traditional hand games. We played thumb war, rock paper scissors, hot hands, and our favourite tag.

Tag is a game that can be played between two or more people. The "it" runs around to tag or hit the other people playing. If someone gets hit by "it," they'll be out of the game.

Being surrounded was likely the most boring part at the start, but playing those traditional games with my sister made me remember our old life. Sometimes, taking a break from our social lives can be greatly beneficial.

While lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, our sense of smell became disturbed by the wholesomeness of our mother's scrumptious Tuesday Taco soup with tuna and bread on the side.

"Girls, come down stairs! it's time for dinner!" said my mother

I cooked your favourite! " said my father.

Right after, we raced down the stairs, competing to see who would reach there first, and like always, it was Lucy-Ann. Anyway, it didn't matter because all I wanted to do was eat. I dug into the food like I was shoveling some sand, then I slurped the last bit of soup left. My behaviour was unpolished and lacked etiquence, but I did not care about the soup dripping down my face. By the time I was done, I looked over only to see Lucy carefully digesting her soup using a knife, fork, and spoon. I thought it was stupid to eat their soup with a knife and fork. The way that she was eating her soup signified something to me. She was tempting because I had already eaten mine. My mouth watered and my eyes felt teary as I watched her eating her tuna and bread. Then I saw her cheeky little grin.

"Do you want some?" asked my sister

I rolled my eyes and left, while she grinned continuously.

My father's phone rang as I stepped onto the stairs.

"Hello- What?" asked my father with his phone by his ears.

"The bakery's opened! Someone had robbed it!" said the person on the phone.