Flush it Down the Toilet

As this week went on I found myself in mess of homework assignments due. Which reminded me of my first failing grade I received when I was in school. I was only in the second grade when I received my first failing grade. I didn’t understand the assignment in its full and did what I did best and just winged it. Yet, this time it didn’t work so well for me.

I began working on the assignment, I can’t quite remember what it was today. We had a substitute teacher that day and the assignment was due at the end of the class period. It was an old crotchety sub that all of us students were scared of. No talking was aloud and heaven forbid if you asked to use the restroom. So I was deathly afraid of asking for help on the assignment. I began to chip away at the assignment and turned it in just in time for the class to end. I went my marry way onto the next class and forgot about the assignment.

The next day came and our original teacher was back in the classroom. She had already graded yesterday’s assignment and was passing them out. Then she handed me mine. The paper floated in the air for what seemed like an eternity, and all I could see was the big red E circled. I watched if float until it hit the desk as if the paper had turned into a cinder block. I was scared my stomach hurt and my eyes watered up. Now there was only one question in my mind. What was mom going to do? I walked home on my usual path brainstorming what I was going to do and how I was going tell mom. No idea come to mind.

I walked in the door as I always did beating mom home from work by a half hour, the longest half hour of my life. I paced around the house setting the paper in not so obvious places so I could say I left it out, but hoping she would never find it. Then she pulled in the drive way and my level of fear raised to the top. I quickly grabbed the paper and flushed it down the toilet where she would never find it. We had a casual conversation about my school day, then she went into the bathroom. I thought I had no worries until we were both standing over the toilet with my mom asking my paper was in the toilet. I began to cry about my first failing grade. My mom felt bad that I thought she would hate me for not doing well, and explained to me that I wasn’t perfect and she didn’t expect me to be. Ever sense then I wasn’t afraid to admit that I failed, and to ask questions even if it is the scary old crotchety sub.