Pain

Here I was, back in my classroom, trying to keep order with my foot propped up on a baby desk chair, while I popped prescription oxycodone for pain. My throbbing foot felt like a car just ran over it. After reconstructive surgery, I should have stayed home for the rest of the month. However, all of my sick days were gone and my landlady needed her money.

"Tyler, come away from the window," I said to my perpetual renegade. The first-grade student didn't move a muscle. "Tyler, return to your seat." Still no response. He was glued to the window. Why couldn't he concentrate like this during math class? I hobbled over to Tyler to see what the fascination was. From the window ledge to the frame to the lock above the glass was the largest spider web I'd ever seen, complete with spider and prey.

I screamed.

I hate spiders, ever since one bit me when I was Tyler's age. I've never forgotten how my leg swelled and I couldn't breathe. Protecting Tyler from the same fate, I balanced on one foot, grabbed a spelling workbook from a nearby desk, and smashed it against the spider and web.

Then it was Tyler's turn to scream.

"You're safe now, Tyler. The spider can't hurt you."

"You killed him! You killed my friend! You killed him!" Tyler's little round face turned bright red. He lashed out with his fists, punching me in the gut, until his eyes found my navy boot with the Velcro straps.

In slow motion, I saw the recognition in his large blue eyes. I watched his little pouty mouth straighten into a line of defiance. His knee rose to his waist, his arms and shoulders seeming to lift it.

"No, Tyler, don't."