Harold Was No Fool

Harold Was No Fool

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“What?” Harold said looking up.

“I was sure I brought my lunch bag home, maybe I left it in the car?”

“Maybe...” Harold said as his eyes wandered back to the TV.

Sharon gave him a look, then ran out to check.

“It’s not there!”

“It’ll show up, just use a paper bag.”

“I want my real bag. Today is lunch with the kids and it looks better if I have a real lunch bag.”

“It looks better?”

“Like I take it seriously. It helps the kids accept me as one of their own.”

“Right, like you’re not three feet taller, and boss them around,” Harold chuckled.

“Not funny. It’s important that the kids see me sometimes when I’m not the teacher.”

“As if they can forget.”

“You think I just go in there to boss around six-year old’s, don’t you.”

“Well, you do.”

“I also teach them. I teach them to write, read, get along with each other, be kind, clean up after themselves...”

“OK, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to accuse you of being bossy. I was joking. I loved my first grade teacher!”

“Thank you. I guess I’m upset because I can’t find my lunch bag,” she packed her lunch in a paper bag and kissed him goodbye.

As he got up from the table, something stuck to his fanny. Pulling it off, it was Sharon’s lunch bag, all squished. He’d been sitting on it the whole time.

Before he left for work he carried it out and dropped it in a bush, right next to where Sharon parks. He really didn’t love his first grade teacher, and he was just as scared of Sharon’s wrath as he had been of Mrs. Trenton’s back in the day.

Harold was no fool.