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