A collection of short stories and journalistic commentaries depicting my simple life
and how I fit in with the modern day universe of our times

WELLY-BOBS






It was Cassie’s first day at the kindergarten day school; it was also her first day as a fully indentured member of the teaching fraternity. Her studies were finally over and fully armed with her degree, she was ready to be called Miss for the rest of her life. She was a teacher now.

She was placed back at the Dorchester Infant school on qualifying, I say back because she had taught there previously while on work release, but she had been looking forward all the same, to finally having the opportunity of running her own classes.

The day ran relatively smoothly and without incident and Cassie was looking forward to a perfect ending to what had been an already perfect day for her.

Already fast approaching the end of her first day however, the children, her charges for the rest of the following year, were assembling in the cloakrooms, all bundling themselves up in hats, coats and scarves prior to being released into the rain swept playground where their parents awaited the final bell announcing the end of the school day to all within its range. As the bell tolled, the dressed children instinctively formed into lines and filed their way towards the main exits. Another five minutes of bedlam, Cassie thought to herself, and her very first day would then be over.

But that was before she met David, he was one of the school students left struggling by himself in the cloakroom. Normally a bright little chap for a six year old, he had asked for her help and she could soon see why. He was struggling with his welly-bobs and even with her now pulling and him pushing, the small green rubber boots still didn’t want to go on.

In fact, by the time the second boot was on, Cassie had worked up quite a sweat. And you can imagine just how she felt when young David looked up at her and said, “Miss, they are on the wrong feet”. Dismayed, her eyes left his and looked down to the boots and sure enough they were indeed wrongly placed. Damnation, she whispered to herself as she prepared for a second round.

It wasn’t any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on for young David, but still somewhat flushed with the success of her very first day, she managed to keep her cool as together they once again worked to get the boots back on, and this time on the right feet.

They were doing well too, when David faced his teacher and announced, “You know these aren’t my boots?”

Cassie bit her tongue as her eyes shot up to meet young David’s. Nothing was said just then as Cassie immediately tugged at the boots releasing them once again from David’s tiny feet. Finally, just as she had got the ill fitting boots off again, David looked into her eyes and informed her, “They’re my brother’s boots, and my Mum made me wear them”.

Now just at that moment, Cassie didn’t quite know whether she should laugh or cry at the whole scenario as it unfolded before her. But she mustered up all the grace and courage and strength that she had left in order to wrestle the boots back onto the child’s feet.

Finally, between the two of them, they had done it. The boots were on and not a word came from David’s young mouth. Cassie then reached over for his coat and held it open as he slipped into it. Pulling up the zip and straightening out the collar, Cassie asked David, ”Where are you mittens darling?”

“Oh no,” he said with a face beguiling his innocence, “I stuffed them in the toes of my welly-bobs...”




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Its my own fault really, its all about what I see in the world, and how it all translates for me.

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