Wednesday, June 6, 2012

What Will Grow

A story for our current theme of  What Will Grow


Gertie
By Doreen Vanderstoop

Ever since Gerhart Grunwald was a baby, his family had called him Gertie. Though he was much too young to explain such a thing, Gertie liked certainty. He observed the world like someone determined to find the best route through a mine field. On the refrigerator, his mother posted poems and notes to inspire the family to be good, successful people. The poem written by Robert Fulghum was Gertie’s favourite. Now that Gertie was going to the big school, he asked his mother to read Mr. Fulghum’s words over and over. Not all of them made sense to him but he understood enough to realize that everything he needed to know to survive outside the protective walls of his home he would learn in kindergarten.

Gertie liked his teacher immediately. Besides great height, she had long brown hair that flowed and shone like melted chocolate in the September sunlight streaming through the window. She showed all her teeth when she smiled so he was sure she meant it. After the bell, Miss Baker sat all the children in a circle, welcomed each of them by turn and introduced them to the group. When she said, “Welcome, Gerhart. It is a pleasure to have you in my class,” he piped up proudly, “My name is Gertie, Miss Baker.” “Well, then,” she said, with all her teeth showing, “then we must all call you Gertie, if that is what you wish.” From the corner of his eye, Gertie noticed a boy named Tommy shoot a hand to his mouth to stifle a cough.

At recess, Tommy ran up to Gertie and shouted, “Girlie Gertie, Girlie Gertie,” and then he ran away laughing. When Gertie mentioned this to his mother, he learned that ‘sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me.’

Over the months, Gertie was watchful of Tommy. Gertie saw him horde the best Lego pieces for himself and even tuck some in his pocket. When the snow came and they played fox and geese in the playground, Tommy always stepped off the trampled paths. And when he tagged, he tagged very hard. Before snack time, Tommy swept his hands under the tap so quickly that Gertie doubted they’d even gotten wet. His cubby was filled with bits of paper and old plastic snack bags with one gummy worm or a couple fish crackers left in them. Tommy called Melissa Hendricks a sissy when her tooth came out and she cried. On Valentine’s Day, Melissa’s mother had to take back one of the two cupcakes that Tommy snatched from the tray.
Gertie worried about Tommy. And though he was much too young to explain such a thing, Gertie worried about the uncertainty of a world where people didn’t think twice about breaking Mr. Fulghum’s rules.

In the spring, Miss Baker gave all the children a Styrofoam cup with a bit of soil in which to plant a seed. They tended them with care, keeping them moist and in the light. All except Tommy. The day after planting, he knocked his over so that soil and seed tumbled out onto the window ledge and he had to sweep it back in before Miss Baker saw. Sometimes he let it dry out and other times it looked like a mud milk shake.

One morning, a squeal went up from the cluster of children at the window ledge. The seeds had sprouted and tiny gangly stems lifted their heads toward the window as if to catch their first glimpse of the outside world. All but Tommy’s.

Gertie watched Tommy’s face, which betrayed not a bit of upset at his lifeless mud stained cup. And Gertie thought, maybe nobody knows how or why the roots go down and the plant goes up, but somebody knows just when they shouldn’t.

Doreen is a longtime freelance features writer who finally broke free from objectivity. Her writing has been published on the CBC website and she was named a finalist in the Writers Union of Canada 2011 postcard story contest.



If you have a poem, or some prose (500 words or less) you'd like to share, even if it doesn't fit the theme, we'd love to see it. Send your submission to awcswriterscorner@gmail.com


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