Valuable Life Lessons In Rocky Creek Elementary School

Small mistakes can have big consequences. A frivolous, mischievous eleven year old me learned that valuable life lesson on a typical day in Mrs. Youmans’ fifth grade class. Little did I know, as I walked into Rocky Creek Elementary School that day, my world of typical, childish antics would cause an excessive amount of unnecessary trouble. From that day on, I would finally consider the repercussions of my actions. I would finally understand what it means to think before you do. I would finally begin making smarter choices. It was the day I learned the most important lesson any elementary school student could ever learn. It was the day I tossed a bean in the urinal. It all started with a bathroom break. The wild pack of fifth graders rushed

The next day, I realized that small bean was not magical. It was cursed. An outraged Mrs. Youmans awaited me and my fellow classmates as we hesitantly shuffled into the classroom. On the white board, in all capital letters, was a note from Mr. Steve, the school janitor. It read, “PLEASE DO NOT PUT BEANS IN THE URINALS!” Mrs. Youmans was not happy. For what seemed like almost an hour, she ranted to the class about disrespect and manners. She stammered around the room with anger, looking at each and every one of us with her bitter blue eyes. To my good fortune, she didn't know it was me. I trembled in my chair, red as a cherry, with tiny beads of sweat collecting on my palms. Small fragments of graphite fluttered from the tip of my pencil as I anxiously tapped it over and over on my desk. I might as well have had “IT WAS ME” inked in Sharpie on my forehead, but my poor equanimity was enough to delude Mrs. Youmans. As I chewed nervously at my fingernails, I realized I was in the clear. I kept my composure and managed to outlast the barrage of fury from my teacher. “I'm off the hook!” I thought. I was wrong. Although I had managed to outwit my fierce, fuming teacher, my friend Will wasn't so composed. The following day, I experienced the worst form of dismay any eleven year old could ever imagine. As I sat at my desk, I could hear the distinct, unmistakable click-clack of men’s dress shoes marching down the hall. Time seemed to freeze in its place. The unambiguous

That thirty second stretch felt like an eternity. Blood rushed to my head, adrenaline filled my body, and the hairs along the lengths of my arms stood up, reaching for salvation. I entered his office and falteringly placed myself in the chair of shame. He sat down and began with the story of our young, female custodian that had the misfortune of fetching my bean out of the urinal. After that, he informed me of all the possible problems a foreign object can inflict upon a urinal. He made it seem as if my small bean could have shut down all of South Carolina's waste disposal as we know it. I endured a bombardment of criticism and debasement, but I still couldn't see how this preposterous ordeal could be such a colossal problem. “It was just one, small bean,” I thought. But it didn't matter what I thought. My worst nightmare was still about to come true: a phone call home to my