THE ENFORCER - Segment 2 (Scroll down for opening segment)

     It was ten o’clock in the morning.  I had been sleeping soundly, preparing for the fourth grade, when I was rudely awakened by my mother.  “I talked to your new teacher this morning,” she said.

     “Who was that?” I asked, holding my breath in anticipation.

     “Miss Hatchet,” mom answered.

      All my breath packed up its bags and fled out the window.  I would be spending my entire year with Miss Hatchet, better known as “The Enforcer,” a partner in scare tactics with the “Intimidator.”

     I remember riding my bike around town.  I would pedal by Miss Hatchet’s home.  Viewed from a distance, she seemed like a normal person…working in the yard, sitting on the porch, reading the newspaper, smiling and waving as I passed by.  But somewhere between the porch and school she underwent a metamorphasis, appearing in the classroom as Attila the Hun.  I was certain, if I went in in her basement, I would find kids from last year, chained to a desk, doing math problems.

     She was a rather large, but sturdy, old maid; someone who had never married.  She had dedicated her life to scaring the wits out of little kids. 

     As Mom escorted me to school that first day, I felt like a fourth grader being drug to slaughter.  As it turned out, I just needed a couple of bandages for two skinned knees.  Once the bandages were applied, I didn’t think Mom would leave me.  This was because I had a death grip on her leg, restricting blood flow, and almost causing her to black out.  She managed to grab hold of a chair to steady herself, then shook her leg until I broke free, leaving only my hands still firmly attached to her ankle.

     “Wake is a little nervous about the first day, “she said.  “Do you think he will be alright?”  Before I could answer the question, the Enforcer interrupted,” Don’t worry, Mrs. Maberry, I’ll make sure to keep an eye on your son.”  I was just thankful it wasn’t both eyes. 

     Quickly, I glanced out the window and saw slides, swings, and monkey bars, with kids playing and laughing.  With my acute sense of discernment due, in part, to my previous years as a P.O.W. (Prisoner of Washington grade school), I realized immediately that this was probably a diversionary tactic, leading me to believe there would be time for fun.  Then my eye caught the razor wire encircling the playground, and I knew I couldn’t escape.  I was just hoping to get time off for good behavior.

     As other kids started filing in, I began getting insider information.  I would have to wait until recess to get outsider information. 

To be continued...check back soon