Mona

Elmona, known as Mona, was a first grade classmate of mine who had an awful appearance.  Her hair was jagged, snarled, and long.  The clothes were no doubt twenty years out of style, and she always wore tennis shoes, even with her dresses.

The classmates loved to tease her in every action she did as if she was born a natural clown.  Everything she did was paired up with nerves and timidness.

One day, she had to read a line for the annual first grade program.  As she quietly walked up to the microphone, I could already hear giggles and smirks.  She read  lines with a constant croaking and cracking rhythmic voice.  By the time she was finished everyone was laughing very violently.

I watched her as her mop-like head fell down in disappointment.  I could tell she was unhappy about her performance as always.

That day as the class left for home, I noticed Mrs. Kugel of the first grade teachers walk by the girl with her head hung down again.  I could see pity in the woman's face.  She was about to talk to Mona when she looked at the watch with a panicked look on her face and ran out of the door.

Mrs. Dunwig walked by soon after that.  She was the vice principal.  I could see her trying to encounter the sad young girl, but finally remembered that there was a student in the office waiting for a disciplinary conversation, something I wouldn't like to experience.

Then a young teacher that everyone thought was stern and mean, Mrs. Tuttle, walked by.  I could see how extremely compassionate her face looked.  She also looked at her watch, but she ignored it.

My heart beat faster as I saw her walk toward Mona.  What was she going to do with her? 

Surprisingly, I saw her talk gently with Mona.  In less than a minute, she had Mona laughing so hard she could hardly breathe.

Ever since then, Mona has been the most popular girl, and became very beautiful.  I also saw that Mrs. Tuttle was also very nice, and only seemed mean, because she was doing her job.

I have marveled at the influence one person could have on another, and I have learned that you cannot judge a person.

Commentary:

I came upon this nice little short story in my collection of writings.  There are no dates listed on it, so I have no idea when I wrote it, but judging by my handwriting, it had to be during my early teenage years.  It appears to be one of my sit down and write it out stories.  As I read it, I am reminded of a little girl I knew in my first grade class who only attended school for about three weeks before she moved away, but the description in this story seemed to be based off of her.  She was a lonely girl and didn't have friends.  I didn't really have friends either, so I took the effort to be her friend for those three weeks.  We played together during recess until she left.

As I read through this story, it appears that I was trying write some sort of good Samaritan story.  I'm not sure if I was writing it to understand, or if I just borrowed the general plot to write this one on a current and more understandable situation.  I edited some spelling and details in the story so that it made slightly better sense, but in general it is in its original format.