malicious in her smile. I locked my arms tighter across my chest.
I was in the fifth grade, so my day was divided into periods, with
different teachers and classrooms for each. For the first period, I had
West Virginia history. History was one of my favorite subjects. I was
coiled and ready to raise my hand as soon as the teacher asked a question
I could answer, but he stood at the front of the room next to a map of
West Virginia, with all fifty-five counties outlined, and spent the entire
class pointing to counties and asking students to identify them. In my
second period, we passed the hour watching a film of the football game
that Welch High had played several days earlier. Neither of those
teachers introduced me to the class; they seemed as uncertain as the kids
about how to act around a stranger.
My next class was English for students with learning disabilities. Miss
Caparossi started out by informing the class that it might surprise them
to learn some people in this world thought they were better than other
people. "They're convinced they're so special that they don't need to
follow the rules other people have to follow," she said. "like presenting
their school records when they enroll in a new school." She looked at me
and raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "Who thinks that's not fair?" she
asked the class.
All the kids except me raised their hands.
"I see our new student doesn't agree," she said. "Perhaps you'd like to
explain yourself?"
I was sitting in the second-to-last row. The students in front of me
swiveled their heads around to stare. I decided to dazzle them with the
answer from the Ergo Game.
"Insufficient information to draw a conclusion," I said.