Kristen+M.

Thanks for popping in to check out my page! I hope that you will enjoy reading the two pieces that I have posted and provide me with some feedback that will help improve my writing. -Kristen 

//Order in the Backpack//

"Order!" the pocket calendar screams. There must be order in the plotting of her life! Order that fits neatly, squarely into the confines of the daily boxes. Order that consists of Dover from 3:15-5:15 and tennis from 7:00 until 9:00.

Order is created on the thumb drive. Files arranged by topic, by date, by size, by name; the epitome of order.

Order is kept with the pocket-sized business card holder. The black leather billfold is anxious to be flipped open to dutifully house each arriving card in its rightful and orderly place.

Order is highlighted by the triangle of the three standard colors: yellow, green, orange. Order is established upon the color coding of text and officially complete only when the cap tightly snaps on to the tri-colored holster.

Order is restored with Dickenson's 100% Natural Facial Towelette. The chaos of germy desks, pens, hands and notebooks is swept away with just a few swipes of the disposable cloth. 

__ Annie Ain't No Retard __

//Yuh-ep. Hell-o.// //Hello, Mr. Tracey?// //Who wants to know?// Oh boy. Here we go. //This is Lucy Michaels, Annie’s// //American Writers// //English teacher.// //Yeah. She said you might be callin’.// Could this be a smirk that I am hearing?? His kid needed a freaking 90 to graduate. //Yes, well, I am calling to let you know that we will need to work with Annie to ensure that she gets a 90 this quarter so she will graduate with her class.// //Humph.// //So. What are you gonna do?// WHAT?! //I’m sorry? What do you mean?// //I said--go get that door!--I said what are you gonna do?// //Well, I was thinking that together, we could work with Annie to be sure that she is doing the work that she needs to get the 90.// //Are you sayin’ my kid is a retard?// //Uh. No...// I could not make this shit up. //Because you people wanted her to tested for what’s that called?// //Um, Special Education?// //Yeah. My boy got that and they thought he was a damn retard. Annie ain’t no retard.// Oh dear Jesus. I was thankful that I was alone in the teachers’ room at the end of the hall. That sting of nervous sweat and the burn of hives began. //I am sorry that you feel that way, Sir. I am just saying that I think it would be in all of our best interests to work together to get Annie through this so she graduates.// //You are damned right that she’s gonna graduate.// Seriously?! Are you threatening me now?

//Um, maybe you would like to come in and we can talk about this.// //I will sue you and that whole district if she doesn’t graduate.// Every fiber of my being wanted to pound the phone into the table and scream at this man about what a horrid father he is and that he is the root of our problems. //Sir, why don’t you come in tomorrow after school and we can all sit down and talk about this? I can invite the principal//. Could he hear my voice shake? Probably…and he was like a shark circling around the blood in the water. //What did you say your name is again?// //Miss Michaels.// //Uh huh. I will be there with my wife and I’m brinin’ Annie too.// //That’s good, Sir. I think it’s important that we all hear the same thing and work together. I'll also invite the Principal.// //Who is that?// //The Principal? His name is Mr. Dudley.// //Oh.// //Ok, I will see you after school tomorrow.// //Yep. We’ll all be there.// //Ok. Bye.//

I didn’t realize that I was shaking until I put the phone back in its cradle. It was too much. This asshole wasn’t going to threaten me! Who did he think he was? That’s when Sue walked in and I lost it. I started to tell her the story and I started to cry. All the crap at home from Bryce, all the crap here from Mr. Tracey. It all came out right in front of my department head. Hell of an impression to make in your first year, Lucy. She listened and took me down to the Principal’s office. Mr. Dudley get visibly redder as my story unfolded. Good thing my three evaluations were done for the year. He stammered and stuttered, his hallmarks of anxiety. I couldn’t tell who was more nervous, him or me. We agreed that he would clear his calendar for tomorrow afternoon, he would also ask the union rep to be there, Sue said she wouldn’t miss it for the world.

