Cocoons

As instructed, we sat “Indian style” in a linoleum-tiled circle. Mrs. Alexander left and a pack of boys headed to the aquarium. Butterfly cocoons clung to its glass lid. The boys tapped and pounded. I joined them. I understood that butterflies were beautiful treasures, worth waiting for. And yet I aided and abetted. The cagey boys returned to their squares in the circle, leaving me to solo. I felt Mrs. Alexander spank me. She then steered me, wailing, to her teacher desk. Kneeling down, she hugged me. Perhaps regretting her own impulsivity, she dabbed my tears. Was I bad or good? Only she held the power to decide.