Patience in Wonder Meadow

“Absolutely, marvelously adequate,” said the teacher to Patience’s mother. “And that should be taken as praise,” she said, pushing at her nose and removing the bi-focals from her jaundiced face. She had a short haircut that older women wear to make themselves look younger, with strands of different colors circling her round face. Wearing her Chinese red, silk kimono made the woman look more like a Theater teacher than an English teacher.

Why do older women do that? Thought Patience, as she watched her and her mother talk.

She always talks differently to grownups than students.

“Ahem,” Patience’s mother replied, not knowing whether to be insulted or to grapple with the newest educational phrasing for student development. Leaning on the desk, she spoke slowly, “Is she being challenged enough? I mean, do you think she’s learning her studies well enough?”

“They are children and we need to protect them as they are growing up, yes? No reason to rush them into adulthood sooner than necessary, right?” The smoothed-face old woman cleaned her glasses with a small piece of cloth as she talked. “We prepare these treasured assets. No child is left behind without improvement. It is not what is said, but what is known! The goal of having all our trusted ones move uniformly through the school year, prepares them for the next, right?” Putting her glasses into her pocket, she squinted at Patience, then at her mother. “She is a bright one, always wearing something colorful!”

“I see your point,” said her mother, whose narrowing eyes told Patience she was not happy. Turning to Patience, she said, with a furrowed brow, “Let’s move on to the next teacher, shall we?” Turning back to the teacher she said curtly, “Pleasure,” and walked away with Patience’s hand in hers.

Walking through the crowded corridors, her mother read the signs over the doors. “So much for English,” she said, without looking at Patience. “What should we expect in Science?”

Patience didn’t answer, for mother was in one of her moods that would get fouler as the evening went on.

I wish I were somewhere else than here, she thought. Mother is becoming upset and my teachers are useless in her eyes. I see that.

The Science teacher was no better. “She’s good at following instructions, natively inquisitive, I’d say. Receives and digests the facts and always asks about the next assignment and when it is due. Bright one, yes!” He had tiny, dark-brown eyes that filled his eye sockets, leaving no room for the whites.

Mr. Rodin’s bushy mustache stuck straight out, which reminded Patience of several types of rodents. Looking at her desk, she hoped that no one saw her smile at that thought.

How strange grownups are, they seem to turn into something else as they age.