Chapter 20: Bad Days Come in All Sizes
Sam ducked her head to hide a sudden smile, pretending to be absorbed in the simple sorting task in front of her rather than the discussion between two of her tablemates about their favorite colors and whose was better. Thursday had passed unremarkably, and she was now into her second full day of school. Thus far, she'd not found anything unusual at the school, but she still had to find a way to get away from the class, even if only for brief periods. Unfortunately, the two adults had kept close handle on all the children, quick to remind or gently correct any child that seemed the least bit confused, and they'd not gone anywhere out of the classroom except as a large group. Even then, they always held hands and were kept from straying or wandering off. It did not seem likely in the near future that she'd be able to freely wander the halls, so she had to content herself for the time being with the limited exposures she was given. She hoped that Daniel and Teal'c were having better luck, but the opportunity to speak with either man had not presented itself. In fact, she hadn't seen Daniel since his lesson, and she hadn't seen Teal'c at all yet. All SG-1 had at the moment was the fact that Daniel had seen Teal'c and no one had activated their emergency beacon.
Meanwhile, she was more or less a captive of the daily kindergarten activities, which she was finding to be overly simplistic and repetitive. To help the students settle in, the class had already fallen into a pattern of lessons and activities that were repeated with only minor variations. They came in, put away their things, took out their folders, listened to the announcements and recited the pledge. Next they took on the calendar activity, followed by a little movement song to get them all warmed up before starting on some sort of activity, usually split up into groups. Activities were starting to morph from ones designed to test the varied level of skills to ones geared at learning how to perform tasks as a class.
To her surprise, Sam found she wasn't as bored as she thought she would be. She spent a lot of time watching her classmates, and getting used to the idea that no one thought she was anything more than she appeared to be. The other students were starting to relax into the rituals of classroom life and even Nathan began to look less terrified. There were still occasional tantrums and tears especially in the beginning of the day, but already the students were beginning to look forward to favored activities. She found herself covertly watching the children around her, curious about them while she looked for opportunities to break away from them in the near future.
In her own group, Bridget and Mike were outgoing. In fact, Bridget reminded Sam a lot of little Katie, and seemed to flower when she had others to direct in how to do things. In the yellow group, when the various groups were merged for different activities, Sam found little Tommy also liked to get his own way, but he tended to be loud, pushy, and demanding unlike Bridget. He also tended to grab or push to get to what he wanted, using his larger size to advantage. In the same group, Amy tended to hold back, taking in the activities with wide, startling blue eyes. Unless one of the teachers or other children drew her out, the little girl tended to spend the activity period watching or daydreaming.
When the Greens and Reds came together, Sam could only smile over Rolando. The young Hispanic boy had amazingly dark eyes and a captivating smile. He was happiest when they spent time in the reading corner, and already in the first week he'd gotten so absorbed in paging through a picture book that the teachers had had to remind him it was time to move on. He absolutely loved story time, which Sam had quickly realized was an integral class activity, and she was startled to find she enjoyed it almost as much as the other children. There were also a number of fairly shy children, like Jaycee and Julie. Both girls had short brown hair, and the two seemed content to play independently unless the teachers or one of the more outgoing children engaged them.
Sam smiled as Jerry, seated at her table, explained to Mike why he had to be careful about closing his closet at night. She was learning that the children in this age group had very active imaginations. Jerry had previously drawn a picture of an imaginary being that lived in his closet, and Mike was skeptical. His father had told the darker haired boy in no uncertain terms that monsters did not exist. She shook her head, turning back to her own task before shifting in her seat with a slight frown. She was also coming to realize that children this age had much smaller bladders and was beginning to rethink the wisdom of having that second cup of coffee this morning. With a furtive look at the clock, she stifled a groan. There was almost an hour until the scheduled bathroom break.
Ordinarily, she'd have no trouble waiting, but her child body rebelled at the thought, sending more and more urgent signals to her mind, making her squirm in her seat. She glanced around the room, finding the rest of the children engaged in their assigned activities. Ms. Hans was busy in the supply closet at the big sink, washing out trays for some later activity that day. Mrs. Guilford had her back to them, working with a small group by the window. Clearly remembering where the bathroom was from their trips the last few days and her mental recall of the blueprints and directory, Sam stood quietly and slipped out of the room. After all, the bathroom was just down the hall, and she saw no reason for someone to escort her. She made her way, finding something eerie about traveling the deserted hallways. So far, she'd only come this way during the scheduled trips, and without the rest of the class everything seemed even bigger than usual. The voices of teachers and students filtered out to the hall as she passed the other classrooms, and her footsteps made little sound on the carpeted floor.
She knew it was silly, but the restroom seemed larger than ever, the empty stalls echoing with her footfalls. Still, she chose not to linger. It was almost a relief to come back to the bright, cheerful classroom. Preoccupied as she was, she hardly noticed when a figure stopped in front of her, blocking her way back to her seat. She looked up into the relieved and dismayed face of Mrs. Guilford.
"Where have you been?" the woman demanded in a no-nonsense tone.
Sam blinked in surprise. "The bathroom," she replied honestly.
"The bathroom?" Mrs. Guilford replied, a frown beginning to form on her face. "Have you no idea Miss Lewis, that Ms. Hans and I were getting worried about you? Ms. Hans was just about to go looking for you."
Sam frowned back, feeling a little confused at why Mrs. Guilford seemed so unhappy. "I was only gone a few minutes," she said, looking around the classroom to see that the groups had moved. Just her luck, they must have changed stations just after she'd left. For the sake of a few minutes, her absence might never have been noticed.
"A few minutes!" exclaimed the teacher, hands on hips. "And did you ask permission?"
Swallowing, Sam tried to focus on the present, but her mind was locked onto the fact that a little thing like going to the bathroom had turned into a big deal. "I knew the way," she defended, trying to infuse her tone with reassurance. After all, shouldn't they be pleased she was independent?
Obviously not, since Mrs. Guilford's frown deepened. Before Sam had time to think, the teacher had turned her around and was marching her toward the front corner near the teacher's desk. "I think you, young lady, need to spend some time in the time out corner, reflecting over respect. And next time, remember that in this class, we ask permission before leaving the classroom." With that, she seated Sam in the time out chair. Sam stared down at her lap, her cheeks on fire. She could hardly believe that she'd just gotten in trouble for going to the bathroom!
The next five minutes seemed to drag by, and it was all she could do to keep from fidgeting. She barely heard the lecture that Mrs. Guilford gave her upon her release, merely trying to look contrite and inserting a few "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am" responses when appropriate. With some relief and no little consternation, she let Ms. Hans lead her back to her group, getting her involved, however late, in the assigned activity. She sighed as the aide moved away from her, pretending to become absorbed in her task. Glancing covertly at her watch, Sam saw that it was almost time for Daniel's lesson. Likely, one or two more projects, and then they'd have a break after Daniel. She looked up as she saw that Ms. Hans was now carrying out trays and cups from the utility room as Mrs. Guilford instructed the class to put away their supplies and explained the new activity. They would be painting watercolors.
Sam wasn't particularly excited, but she was getting used to that. Dutifully, she took a thick sheet of paper, and tried to look eager as Ms. Hans left little trays of paint and cups of water on the table, and Mrs. Guilford took each table back to the coatroom to get their smocks. Soon, the class was involved in the project. Sam hadn't gotten very far when she was showered with fine water droplets. Mike was blissfully removing the excess water from his brush by banging it on the edge of the cup. He stopped, and Sam narrowed her eyes slightly, deciding to ignore it. No one else seemed bothered. Unfortunately, little time had passed before she was again showered with droplets. Murmurs and protests from her tablemates showed that this time, she wasn't the only one. Mike shrugged slightly. "Sorry," he mumbled, turning back to his painting, everything else forgotten. Sam bent back to hers, until she again felt the telltale spray of water.
"Mike!" she admonished. Mike shrugged again, but offered no apology. Sam sighed. She wasn't really interested in painting, especially not if she kept getting peppered with the dirty water from rinsing the paintbrushes. The next time when it happened, she shot a hand out, stopping the little boy mid shake. "Mike, stop it," she told him, "You're getting everything wet."
Mike frowned at her, and then seemed to make up his mind. "Make me," he said, a defiant look crossing his face.
Sam's brows creased. "That's not nice," she told him, removing her hand. Mike just stuck out his tongue at her, and went back to his artwork, if one could call it that. Mostly, it just looked like a bunch of muddy colored smudges, mingled with droplets of various colors. It looked something like one might expect coming from a five year old with a short attention span. He'd changed colors nearly a dozen times already.
The blond haired boy only used his current color choice for a few strokes, and when he moved to rinse out his paintbrush, Sam was waiting. Her hand shot out over the water cup before Mike could dip his paintbrush in. She lifted her chin in challenge. Mike looked unhappy, especially when he saw the other water cup on the table was out of reach. Sam relaxed, pleased with her solution, when Mike's hand darted out towards hers unexpectedly. "See!" he crowed, aiming to get under her hand but misjudging, striking the cup and knocking it over. Paint colored water splashed across the table, but mostly towards her. The smock she was wearing was designed to prevent smudges and such from soiling clothing, but not to handle a large amount of water. Not to mention it didn't cover everything.
Leaping to her feet, suddenly soaked in cold, dirty rinse water, Sam cursed loudly and reflexively, not realizing that she was the cause of the hush to fall over the table.
"What is going on here?" demanded Mrs. Guilford, looking harried as she grabbed a handful of paper towels and headed towards them.
"Sam cussed," Mike gleefully announced, pointing helpfully in her direction. "Wanna hear what she said? It was really bad," he added.
Her cheeks flushed crimson again. "He knocked over the water cup," Sam found herself saying defensively. Instantly, she bit her lip, and looked down at her dripping clothing. Water pattered onto the floor with a steady drip. Had she just tattled?
"That's enough. Mike, sit down right now. And no, I don't need you repeating anything. I heard it just fine. As for you, young lady, that language is not tolerated in this classroom." Sam stared at her toes and the slowly spreading puddle at her feet, nodding mutely. "Now, take these towels, and go with Ms. Hans, she'll get you cleaned up." Orders given, Mrs. Guilford turned to the mess, as Sam's head snapped up.
"I can get cleaned up myself," she protested automatically.
"And I told you that Ms. Hans would help you," Mrs. Guilford told her firmly, turning back to face her.
The thought of having someone help her dress was too much for Sam, and all logical thinking went right out the window. "But I don't need any help!"
"That's enough. You've been telling me all morning what you can and can't do. So now you can go to the girl's room with Ms. Hans, who will help you get cleaned up, and you can come right back here and spend another five minutes in the time out chair. Am I clear?"
It was a struggle, but Sam somehow managed to swallow her argument. Right now, her mouth seemed to only be digger her deeper into trouble. "Yes ma'am," she mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.
"All right Sam, let's get you into dry clothes," spoke Ms. Hans from behind. Watching her shoes, Sam allowed herself to be guided out of the room and down the hall to the lavatory. She spoke very little as the woman helped her out of the soaking wet clothing. Dimly, she realized that Ms. Hans was murmuring gentle reassurances along with instructions. Once she had cleaned up with the baby wipes the aide handed her, and was dressed once more in her spare clothes, she tried to smile at the woman. After all, she sternly told herself as they walked back to the classroom hand-in-hand, no adult in their right mind would allow a five year old to change out of dripping wet dirty clothes without assistance.
Of course, it was easier to think things over when spending five minutes doing absolutely nothing.
It was only a sign of how her day was going that Daniel arrived a few minutes early for his lesson while she was still serving out her sentence. She could feel her teammate's eyes on her, bur resolutely refused to look as she heard the instructors telling the class what to do with the wet paintings. The children were soon assembling on the carpet, cheerfully greeting Daniel, some correctly remembering to call him "Monsieur" and others forgetting and calling him "Mister." Daniel didn't seem to mind.
Before Sam had time to wonder if she'd been forgotten, Mrs. Guilford was releasing her from the chair. This time, Sam had to resist standing at attention during her second lecture of the day, instead, studying the floor to hide her unrepentant face. Embarrassed, yes, repentant, no. She had vivid flashbacks of memories about standing in a similar position while one of her parents explained why exactly she was being punished. She remembered vaguely that things hadn't always made sense back then either. On the other hand, she'd usually felt a need to question nearly everything when smaller. Her curiosity had gotten her into trouble more frequently than not, until her parents had learned to channel it productively.
Sam tried to melt into the back of the class group, but looked up only to meet Daniel's concerned gaze. She flushed again, and gave him a rather sheepish look, before ducking her head under the pretense of watching where she stepped. He would show up just as she'd been punished for something silly.
She was preoccupied for the rest of the lesson, even though she'd been looking forward to watching her teammate interact with a group of five year olds. Instead, she continued to replay the events of the morning, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong.
Snack time came, and she barely tasted the food she'd packed. Afterward, followed free play for her group, then a counting activity that she barely noticed and the class sang a song about the alphabet. She obediently trooped with the rest of her class to the cafeteria for lunch. She nibbled at her meal, eating more for habit than hunger, getting up when the period was over to join her grade in filing out for recess.
The kindergarten class came to the lunchroom a few minutes ahead of the rest of the lower school, and also went out to the playground before everyone else, having a slightly extended break period, which the youngest students seemed to need. Sam chose a spot under a shady tree, not willing to abandon her mood to join in with the active youngsters in their cheerful games, and she'd thus far found their good mood contagious making her join in despite herself the last two days. The youngest students seemed to play with unrestrained enthusiasm, but Sam only felt like watching today. Therefore, Sam was quite close to two fifth graders when they slipped away from their class near the end of recess and snatched a ball away from two of the kindergarteners in another class group.
The two older, taller boys laughed meanly, and began to toss the ball back and forth over the younger children's heads, jeering when the two smaller children tried unsuccessfully to get their ball back. One of the children quickly grew upset, on the verge of tears. Sam stood, looking for the recess monitors. None were looking their way, most having gathered near or busy watching the minor disturbance of a first grader putting up a good howling over a matching set of scraped knees. Several of the adults had gathered to calm the child, and most of the rest were distracted by the event.
Sam turned back as one of the younger children broke down in tears, and the other one looked near on joining his peer. Having had quite enough of the bullying, Sam marched over, temporarily forgetting her own small size and resultant lack of authority. Timing her move perfectly, Sam ducked in, using her shoulder to push one of the boys out of the way, catching him by surprise and using the opportunity to grab the ball out of the air. Keeping her eye on the boy she'd pushed, she backed away quickly out of range for retaliation, intending to return the ball back to the younger children as soon as possible. She never made it, a hand descended, catching her by the shoulder and Sam reacted instinctively, thinking the second boy had come to aid his friend and his size to claim the ball back. She dropped the ball while at the same moment stomping back with her foot, scraping a shin with one tennis shoe and coming down on a foot as she drove her elbow behind her, expecting to make contact with the soft flesh of the other boy's abdomen. Instead, she made contact with hard bone. She doubled slightly, cupping her tingling elbow, barely taking in the startled gasp of pain that came from a much higher location then she'd expected. Wriggling her suddenly numb fingers, Sam managed to look up into the very startled face of Mrs. Guilford. Somehow, the woman maintained a hold on Sam's shoulder.
"Samantha Lewis!" exclaimed the teacher, her hand tightening on Sam's shoulder, forcing her to straighten. "I have no idea what is going on, but I think you have had enough today. You are going to the office this minute. And you two," she continued, turning her attention to the older boys who were most definitely not in their designated play area, "Go back to your class, I'll be speaking with both of your teachers." Without another word, Mrs. Guilford began to march Sam off the playground as the bell rang, signaling the end of the free period. The teacher nodded to Ms. Hans, the two women obviously just having come out on the playground with several of the other teachers to collect their classes from the recess monitors.
"But," Sam tried to protest, intending to explain what had happened as she was propelled back into the school building.
"Not a word, Samantha," Mrs. Guilford said abruptly, cutting her off, "I've had just about enough of your mouth today. Perhaps going home early will teach you a little restraint," she said her voice slightly strained as she masked a slight limp. The woman seemed to be on her last nerve, and not at all open to any argument. In all likelihood, her side of the story would have little effect on Mrs. Guilford's decision. While Sam hadn't been trying to injure, she had meant to cause at least some pain. It was all she had when dealing with a larger opponent. She no doubt would have been more than successful if Mrs. Guilford hadn't had the misfortune to intervene. The lessons with Teal'c seemed to have paid off, and Sam's shoulders sagged in surrender.
The trip to Principal's office was brief, and Sam barely listened as Mrs. Guilford gave her name and the reason for their arrival at the office. The secretary directed Sam to the long wooden bench outside the office as Mrs. Guilford left her with an admonitory look. Sam's feet dangled several inches from the floor, and idly, she let one leg sway as she waited for her turn.
The principal, a rather imposing figure with a balding head that vaguely reminded her of General Hammond, didn't give her a chance to explain her side of the story either. Instead, he sternly lectured her about how it was wrong to hit people, especially adults. He dismissed her back out to the bench after informing her that he was personally calling her parent to have her picked up early from school.
She slumped on the bench, refusing to look up as the various classes trooped back inside, and the halls emptied out as the students returned to their classrooms. Through the closed door, Sam heard parts of half the phone conversation going on in the Principal's office, and her shoulders slumped even further. She barely mustered up a word of thanks as Ms. Hans dropped off her things, murmuring an encouraging word and giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She continued to stare down at the ugly, gray, utilitarian carpet, not even looking up as a familiar step approached. Brown loafers came to a stop in front of her, and she heard keys jingling slightly as the man shifted his hands inside of his pockets. Neither said anything, and after a moment, Jack retreated, and she heard his voice as he introduced himself to the secretary, producing the proper identification. He returned to her position, picking up her bag.
"C'mon Sam," he told her. She nodded silently, sliding off the bench. Jack led the way out of the building, to the SUV parked outside on the drive. He unlocked the door, and they both climbed inside, Sam leaning back into her seat with a sigh as she finished buckling her restraints. "Sam?" Jack questioned, and she looked up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. She sighed again.
"I don't want to talk about it, sir," she said, shaking her head slightly, and adding as his brows furrowed and he looked ready to protest, "Please."
Jack frowned, seeming to consider her words, finally sighing in return. "Ok, suit yourself, we can talk when you're ready," he added. Sam nodded in reply, turning her head to look out the window. A moment later, Jack started the engine, and pulled away from the curb. She stifled another sigh as she watched the school disappear from sight. Today had not been a particularly good day.