I wasn’t going to post this but, in the past 2 or. 3 days, my mind has been taken over by thoughts of this horrible day in our history.
Note: This is a story written in the point of view of an eight year old child. Although I wrote it many years after that horrible day when I was in second grade, I hope I have captured the day as I experienced it so long ago.
After eating lunch, I went to wait outside the classroom door with Lydia and Denise, my best friends. Our teacher, Mrs. Baumann, let us into the classroom every day after she finished her lunch. We helped her correct papers and get things ready for the rest of the day.
We had been waiting for a long time. She never took this long. It was getting cold. We got tired of waiting so Denise went to the door and knocked. The door opened and Mrs. Baumann came out. She looked real sad. Her eyes looked wet. She let us in. She gave us papers…
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