Charles
Shirey Jackson
    
The day my son Laurie
    started kindergarten he renounced corduroy overalls with bibs and began
    wearing blue jeans with a belt; I watched him go off the first morning with
    the older girl next door, seeing clearly that an era of my life was ended,
    my sweet-voiced nursery-school tot replaced by a long-trousered, swaggering
    character who forgot to stop at the corner and wave good-by to me.
He came home the same
    way, the front door slamming open, his cap on the floor, and the voice
    suddenly become raucus shouting, "Isn't anybody here?"
At lunch he spoke
    insolently to his father, spilled his baby sister's milk, and remarked that
    his teacher said we were not to take the name of the Lord in vain.
" How was school
    today?" I asked, elaborately casual.
"All right," he
    said.
"Did you learn
    anything?" his father asked.
Laurie regarded his
    father coldly. "I didn't leran nothing," he said.
"Anything," I
    said. " Didn't learn anything."
" the teacher
    spanked a boy, though," Laurie said, addressing his bread and butter.
    " for being fresh." He added, with his mouth full.
"What did he
    do?" I asked, "who was it?"
Laurie thought. " it
    was Charles," he said. " he was fresh. The teacher spanked him
    and made him stand in a corner. He was awfully fresh."
" What did he
    do?" I asked again, but Laurie slid off his chair, took a cookie, and
    left, while his was still saying, " see here young man."
From/ The short story and
    you by John S. Simmons/ Mal colm E. Stern