The Lesson of the CRAYON CLOG UP

Starting first grade in Titusville, Florida during the space race of the 1960’s was an exciting time. We were on the cutting edge of the future. Our dads worked at Cape Kennedy. Our moms baked cookies. And we studied the “new” math.

Our fathers beat the Russians to the moon. Our mothers started to go to work and divorce our fathers. And the “new” math meant that most of us never learned our basic math facts.

It was an exciting time.

My elementary school had over a thousand students. We were still using the Dick and Jane reading series, and my teacher was very excited to be able to hand us our very own set of Crayola crayons—basic colors.

We quickly learned that when the principal came into our classroom, there was trouble. Big trouble.

Someone in our class had taken their complimentary crayons into our bathroom and flushed them down the toilet. Anarchy. The toilet backed up; the bathroom was rendered inoperable, and the government issued box of crayons declared a dead loss.

The principal reamed the entire class out. What kind of person abuses their crayons in such an ungrateful way? How does it feel to break the potty? Why would anyone do such a destructive thing? There will be no recess until someone confesses. No one did.

I remember feeling horrible and guilty. Except that I wasn’t. My crayons were tucked safely away in my desk. I know because I checked.

The angry lecture went on and on.

I continued to feel horrible and guilty. Except that I wasn’t.

At a certain point, I began to feel something else. Resentment. I hadn’t thrown my crayons in the potty and flushed. I hadn’t clogged the public toilet. I wasn’t the criminal. Why was I getting punished?

See Jane get miffed. See Dick bristle. See Spot run away in disgust.

I have no idea if the anarchist was ever found out or prosecuted. I only know that punishing the innocent for the criminal behavior of others is—wrong. I learned this in first grade on a sunny day in Florida, when I should have been swinging on the swing set at recess.

Linda (Don’t Tread on Me) Zern