National Everything Month

Today marks the beginning of National Blog Posting Month. Simply put, it means daily blogging for 30 days! My sister joined two years ago and it's been the highlight of the year (when it comes to blog feeds). The tough part is churning up the ingenuity that's required for writing something interesting everyday. Therefore I'm going to combine NaBloPoMo with NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)! NaNoWriMo is actually a near impossible feat, but maybe if I post my stuff on here I'd get more done. Anyway, here it goes.

30 Days of Recess

Rule #1

My chair is tilted forward, held fast against the bookshelf behind my desk. I glance up at the clock and watch the second hand drift closer and closer to the twelve. I lock myself to my runner’s block and brace for the bell to sound off and explode. But I’ve still got 28 seconds left.

I glance over at Daniel who just finished knotting his shoes. Yesterday one of the strings was loose and he tripped right before he could reach the door. He would’ve been the first one out, too. They call him “the wind,” that’s how fast he is.

I glance to my left and see Marvin sitting poised as always. I could never understand that nerd. Didn’t he care about recess? Didn’t he care about being free? How can he sit there like that? How can he focus his ears so intently at Miss Grothoff?

BRRRIIIING!!!!

Before I could react to the bell I could already hear shoes scuffling as my classmates pounce at freedom that teased us from the door. I had broken my concentration; I took my eyes off the clock! I was doomed to be the last one to the tarmac. And being the last one there had its consequences.

I make it to the blacktop and see 27 toothy smiles. We came up with “the punishment” yesterday. Actually, I came up with the punishment yesterday: last one to step onto the blacktop had to run around the playground’s basketball court three times while shouting the school’s alma mater.

When we first made up the game at the beginning of the year, we all signed a contract that bound everyone to secrecy and pure obedience to the rules. If we had a kitchen knife, we probably would have made a blood pact, but we settled for spit hand shakes instead – all 27 of us. Marvin was the only one who refused to take part of our game.

Kenneth B. was one of the smallest boys in the class, but he had the lowest voice among the 12 other boys. And it was always Kenneth who begun the chanting, “Rule number one! You whatever rule we decide on, you have to do it!” He put the heaviest emphasis on the “have.” We knew what would happen if we didn’t follow the rules.

First, we’d be kicked out of the game . . . That was a bad enough punishment. If you were banished, you were alone for the rest of the year – and who knows how many years after that.

The second punishment was black mail. I’ll explain that another time, because right now I’m running laps and screaming at the top of my lungs, “Alma, our Alma Mater, the home of Faith and Wisdom . . .”