The Babysitter

Note from the Author

I tried writing this from the perspective of a 1st or 2nd grader. It was hard to figure out where I should show more of a childish mindset, and where I should just keep it simple. So if any words sound weird, they were intentional.

                                                                              

     
     There it was again. The loud rhythmic clap that signaled us to be quiet. 
     "Snack time?" was the phrase I heard from a few people around me.
     I looked at the teacher who had made the noise, wondering if it really was time for snack. This teacher always picked something good.
     "You all need to be more quiet! Justin!" I turned to look at my leggo-buddy, "When I am talking, you need to listen, ok?" Justin stopped talking. It was scary. This person was scary. Her voice was loud and made me want to hide.
     "Ok, so if you are all ready," she said in a gentle voice, like the one my mother uses when she asks me to set the table for dinner. "Please wash your hands and sit down for snack."
     We did what we always did, some of the older kids did it slower, but we all did it. We prayed and they began handing out snack. I turned to my friend and talked about our plans for our leggo tower.
     "Here you go, sweetie." I heard and turned to see the scary teacher, smiling nicely like my class teacher, handing me my snack. I smiled back, which caused her lips to curve to an even bigger smile.
     The hallway was becoming so loud, just like recess. I wanted to go back into the room with Grace so we could finish our tower, but the big kids were yelling and throwing gold fish at each other. Big monkeys. I was never gonna get to do my tower with these big important punks acting like my little brother.
     "Hey, hey, hey!" They all were quiet. Wow. "You are all sixth graders, but you're acting like--no worse--than the kinder gardeners. We will not go inside until all of you are quiet and all the food is picked up off the floor." 
     They all started cleaning up super fast. As they did, the girl handed Grace a couple of extra gold fish and giggled. 
     The girl came and sat with us as we built our leggos. Working quietly on her own weird toy. It looked like she was making the Beyblades we would make in Kinder garden. She must not know how to build much. If it looked like we were looking for something, she would stop whatever she was doing and help us find it. One of the new first grade girls needed something off of the big shelf and before the girl could even ask, the teacher had already gotten it for her and gave it to her silently with a smile and patted the first grader on the head before she came back to sit with us, and made another Beyblade. 
     I stared at her sneakily like a ninja, not allowing her to see. She looked like she needed a nap. Or, at least, that's what her yawn told me. She rubbed her eyes and put down the leggos and looked around the room. She lazily got up and sat with a fifth grader who was playing mancala alone, taking away a fourth grader's paper airplane that he took from another boy. The teacher and the fifth grader started a game together, and the teacher became more happy and talked with a nice voice. 
     After a long long LONG time, my mom finally got me. The teacher signed me out so I could leave, and gave me a smile that made me want to smile back. She told me to have a good weekend. I held out my hand for a high-five. She laughed and hit my hand, but not too hard thankfully. I liked this side of her better.

VERY rough draft of my Personal Statement

   My heart was beating fast as my friend who had become like a little sister to me stood by my side in the green room. The room was filled with over a dozen children changing into their next stage outfits, some yelling at their mother for pulling their hair to hard while putting it into a tight bun. As we waited I went over the movements that I had been memorizing over the past few months. The music played in my head. I could see the fear and excitement play off of the girls that I had become a family with over the last three months. I knew that the same look reflected off my face.

I had never grown so close with a group of people, especially not in that short of time. I relied on them more than I had with anyone else. I needed them to help me remember how much of a plié in one part. They relied on my good memory to remind them what we had learned the week previous. It was a give and take relationship.

There was only one group before us, and then it was our turn. I could taste the last minute hair spray being frantically put on by a stage mom. My family and I went over the dance one last time before it was our turn. One of the stage managers yelled for us to be quiet as the large grey door that lead to stage left opened before us and the performers that had just performed rushed out, and we walked into the dark side of the stage as the crowd clapped.

Ever since I was young I was very independent. My mother told me that when I was ten months old and learning to walk that I would not let anyone help. She stated that if she or anyone else would come to lift me up after falling that I would turn away from their help. I really don’t know why I did that. Maybe it’s the fact that I was adopted and psychologically I didn't allow myself to become close to the people around me because I feared that they would leave me also.

That is why I don’t think I’ll ever regret the hours I spent at dance. Even though some days it interfered with singing and piano lessons, every drop of sweat was worth it. I learned that it was alright to put my trust in someone. I wouldn't fall every time that I jumped. It also got me more used to the idea of being relied on, and even teaching. I learned how to be gentle when explaining a concept to someone which helped me to see that I could be a teacher and it even made me excited by the idea. I learned so much from something that I did not think would have that much effect on me. I was happy to have been wrong.