Life Among the Savages Read Online Free Page B

inside all during recess. Thursday Charles had to stand in a corner during storytime because he kept pounding his feet on the floor. Friday Charles was deprived of blackboard privileges because he threw chalk.
    On Saturday I remarked to my husband, “Do you think kindergarten is too unsettling for Laurie? All this toughness and bad grammar, and this Charles boy sounds like such a bad influence.”
    â€œIt’ll be all right,” my husband said reassuringly. “Bound to be people like Charles in the world. Might as well meet them now as later.”
    On Monday Laurie came home late, full of news. “Charles,” he shouted as he came up the hill; I was waiting anxiously on the front steps, “Charles,” Laurie yelled all the way up the hill, “Charles was bad again.”
    â€œCome right in,” I said, as soon as he came close enough. “Lunch is waiting.”
    â€œYou know what Charles did?” he demanded, following me through the door. “Charles yelled so in school they sent a boy in from first grade to tell the teacher she had to make Charles keep quiet, and so Charles had to stay after school. And so all the children stayed to watch him.”
    â€œWhat did he do?” I asked.
    â€œHe just sat there,” Laurie said, climbing into his chair at the table. “Hi Pop, y’old dust mop.”
    â€œCharles had to stay after school today,” I told my husband. “Everyone stayed with him.”
    â€œWhat does this Charles look like?” my husband asked Laurie. “What’s his other name?”
    â€œHe’s bigger than me,” Laurie said. “And he doesn’t have any rubbers and he doesn’t ever wear a jacket.”
    Monday night was the first Parent-Teachers meeting, and only the fact that Jannie had a cold kept me from going; I wanted passionately to meet Charles’ mother. On Tuesday Laurie remarked suddenly, “Our teacher had a friend come see her in school today.”
    â€œCharles’ mother?” my husband and I asked simultaneously.
    â€œNaaah,” Laurie said scornfully. “It was a man who came and made us do exercises. Look.” He climbed down from his chair and squatted down and touched his toes. “Like this,” he said. He got solemnly back into his chair and said, picking up his fork, “Charles didn’t even do exercises.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” I said heartily. “Didn’t Charles want to do exercises?”
    â€œNaaah,” Laurie said. “Charles was so fresh to the teacher’s friend he wasn’t let do exercises.”
    â€œFresh again?” I said.
    â€œHe kicked the teacher’s friend,” Laurie said. “The teacher’s friend told Charles to touch his toes like I just did and Charles kicked him.”
    â€œWhat are they going to do about Charles, do you suppose?” Laurie’s father asked him.
    Laurie shrugged elaborately. “Throw him out of school, I guess,” he said.
    Wednesday and Thursday were routine; Charles yelled during story hour and hit a boy in the stomach and made him cry. On Friday Charles stayed after school again and so did all the other children.
    With the third week of kindergarten Charles was an institution in our family; Jannie was being a Charles when she cried all afternoon; Laurie did a Charles when he filled his wagon full of mud and pulled it through the kitchen; even my husband, when he caught his elbow in the telephone cord and pulled telephone, ash tray, and a bowl of flowers off the table, said, after the first minute, “Looks like Charles.”
    During the third and fourth weeks there seemed to be a reformation in Charles; Laurie reported grimly at lunch on Thursday of the third week, “Charles was so good today the teacher gave him an apple.”
    â€œWhat?” I said, and my husband added warily, “You mean Charles?”
    â€œCharles,” Laurie said.