File Book 2

Chapter 15:Shape together

Made it to the hallway with windows covering around both sides of the walls and ceilings and I do not know why it took me somewhat a really long time to figure out the names of the two people who are right in front of and behind me. Right in front of me of John, who I felt like I have not talked to him for too long, and behind me is Steve, which I also did not talked to him for too long. I wait for them to decide whether they want to talk to me or not, nothing like I am a shy little boy who does not know how to get them their attention. Having no ways to start a conversation with them at the moment as my mind feels partially fizzle out on what event I am going to endure next. The only one thing I could have think in my head is that I am hype to go to the gym and it feels like I had never been to that place for way too long right now. In addition, I won't forget about Logan who is kind of nervous still, looking around to find someone who knows what they were doing and copy them in a way that the teachers wants all of us to do. Truly understandable when people who were very young not having the ability to coherent the instructions provided by the teachers. It will be much easier if one of the three teachers can show us what they meant instead of detailing things to assume one of us to know what they wanted us to know without making a single mistake. Does being perfect legitimally on everything really do matter in school? I have zero clue to know that, but if I get older and feeling something like discovering stuff is terrifying, I would have want to turn back and not bother to go furthermore as to why being perfect in school really matters. What matters to me is as long I can maintain the people around me with kindness and respect, I am feeling full confident that I will soon be good and follow orders form the teachers. Avoid making the teachers mad and just do what I was told to do. That way, everybody around me will think I am normal and not painting way in a wrong shapeful form of being a disgusting one. A type of disgusting eon who would slightly whine about anything that is plain ridiculous and thinking every time they were told is by far making us weaker. I reckon like the teachers loves making us repeat the same process as before truly made the back of our head to feel like that we just do not want to do something so annoying. Maybe it will not be difficult for the teachers to change some different activities, almost every month or so instead of making us doing the same thing that is so old. The moment when we got our name called out to come towards the crafting table, I am really certain I do not get bored out from that wonderful activity. Every time I go to school and in the middle of the event when I was traversing around the bookshelves located in the center of the classroom, I get a little angry and annoyed when one of the teachers called my name out loud across the room and watched them flung their arm up as a sign they want me to come over the craft table. Did not remembered what I had made from most of the previous time, though the only one thing I remembered making things in the craft table is cutting up this Mexican traditional cardboard material that has this black marker drawn into a shape I was told to cut it with a pair of scissor and use these already cut out shapes to glue them onto another cardboard that is also a Mexican traditional material. With white cardboard gettering glue down with a glue stick and attach it with a cut off orange cardboard shapes, I made a sun and told to take it home with me to show it to my parents. Rather put it into my older brother's room because I thought he said he is going to do something with it. Expect him to do something nice to my own art work and remembered the times that I will soon going to do some nice things to it, I had seen him putting a magnet onto the metal cloth cabinet so I can see my adorable sun cardboard artwork. Never knew it is worth for the magnet to just held it in there and it is really nice for my brother to allow me to reach from a limit height. It would have been suck if he unexpectedly move my sun cardboard art way up high to the point where I can not reach it. Instead, I could dangerously climb onto the opened drools and step on it to provide extra height or find a stool to softly climb on the very top of the metallic cloth cabinet. Still did not make more decoration yet on the sun cardboard art work and I will soon doodle it once I get back home from school. During the time when I was zoning out, John turns around with both of his arms slightly folded together and spotted me standing behind him. Waiting for the others on the front area of the line to move forward and John looks at me for a few seconds until he greets me. "Oh hey Richard, I did not noticed you were behind me" John said and unfolded both of his arms down. "That is alright. Also, I have not been talking to you for awhile. How have you been?" I asked. "I am doing okay. Just feeling kind of clueless as to what is going on over to the front area of the line. Feels like it has not been moving for too long" John answered and both of us look at the direction where the front area of the line located. Ms. Farrell and Mr. Jones are getting something from this one particular room where they put the equipment they need to bring for both recess time and the other time where we are heading to the gymnasium right now. Mr. Jones is holding the door open for Ms. Farrell to go to that room and retrieve the stuff they need to bring them to the gym. "I am guessing either Mr. Jones or Ms. Farrell had told someone from the front to wait there so they can get something from that room over there" I guessed and point at the direction where Mr. Jones and Ms. Farrell are at. "Yeah, seems to look like it" John said and agreed on what I had said. "Hey Richard, do you remember me?" Steve asked and I turned around to face towards him. With a shy wave and a tame smile, he looks at me in a nervous way, which I truly get someone like him is challenging themselves when somebody he had interacted from the past choices whether to be mean or nice. I will be nice to him because it feels like to me that I have not been talking to Steve for a long time. There is no reason for me to be rude to him and I can imagine meeting somebody else around this classroom having the nerve to be mean to Steve. Or went out of their way being mean to literally anybody, which I do not understand why these people who were like that thinking it is a terrific idea to do such a thing until someone who is much bigger and taller have to punish these kind of people. "Yeah, I think I remembered you. You used to be partner with either Logan, John, or Hector while working on shaping any forms with a wooden blocks" I assumed. "Yeah" Steve confirmed as he started smiling and partially shaking his head up and down. "Do you remembered who is your partner at that time? I forgot" I asked with a confused look on my face. "No, wished I did know who it was" Steve answered. "I have a random question, do you remember what you have made so far when you keep going to the craft table because either Mr. Jones, Ms. Farrell, or Ms. Goldsmith called all of us at once? The only one thing I can remember is gluing the already cut out shapes from the orange cardboard traced with a black marker thanks to Mr. Jones who drawn it perfectly with a mold frame shape as a support and gluing it onto another cardboard colored entirely in white" I noted. "I felt like I have not done something like that before, but what I do remember is when Ms. Goldsmith called my name across the room to come over the craft table and handed me this paint kit" Steve answered. "Do you like painting almost literally every time you come to school?" I asked another. "No, I don't know. I never paint things before and I have no interest to focus more about it. What about you? Do you like painting almost every time you go to school here?" Steve answered and then asked back. "I am not quite sure if I really do like painting, mainly because the paint color did not lay out the way I was expecting it to be. Like specifically whenever I was stroking the paintbrush downward, the paint that is already put out begins spreading wide and the water droplets moves to the side automatically" I answered. I said out the term automatically due to watching my older siblings playing video games  in the basement on a daily basis. Every time we having nothing else to do around in our house, I was being a typical little baby boy who would spent most of my days playing toys, watching kids show, and freely roam around the house. Other than that, my older brother was playing this one particular video game where he loves playing racing games, which I can obviously tell that he has this borne hobby of collecting toy cars. There is this option displayed on the screen where he has to choose to play racing game on automatic or manual mode. Can't tell the different these two because I have zero clue as to what it meant. Except my older brother only knows about them and does not bother to answer my question as to what they mean. How would you be able to not say or answer anything when you truly knew what they meant? Whatever, he picked the mode of automatic to see what kind of experience he is going to have playing a racing video game. Other times he tried the mode of manual and out of nowhere, he begins pressing random buttons on the video game controller with only his two thumbs. Gripping onto the handle of the video game controller and almost looking like he does not use the other fingers to support mashing multiple buttons to get the car to increase the speed. I would not try to play a game where I still have no knowledge to figure out as to what I was supposed to do there. Took me long enough to realize the difference between automatic to manual in racing video games, and that one particular mode is when you are thumping your thumbs against all the buttons of that controller. Automatic is something that do stuff by itself and no matter how much you were trying to adjust it to fit in your expectation, it would not go the way as some of us hoped. Anyway, enough about me explaining how I think of the term automatic really defies to me or where I discovered it, I had already answered Steve's question and end it by mentioning about the droplets moving sideways. "Oh yeah, I had seen something like that when I was painting. Not quite sure if that is problematic or normal to paint it that way" Steve said. "Actually, it was not suppose to be that way. I was once at the craft table with Ms. Farrell and watching her paint is astonishing" John replied. "Did you see any visible droplets on her painting?" I asked. "I do not think I happened to see any droplets on her painting. Maybe one of us could go ask her after this. I don't know" John answered. "I guessed it is not a good thing to see droplets appearing onto your painting. Want to take a good guess out of that?" I asked and partially move both of my shoulders upwards. "I think it will damage the thing, either a portrait or some random paper, when you put the ending tip brush of the paintbrush against it and straights up ruining the thing due to not knowing if you push the paintbrush down hard enough" Steve thought in his head. "So you were saying when someone who is painting on like a paper with a paintbrush and stroke it down, it will ruin and destroy the paper without knowing the tension of how hard or gentle you were pressing down" I translate as to what he had said there. "Yeah, that is what I am trying to say there. What about you? What do you think what causes the droplets to appear on the paper?" John asked. "If I am using common sense here, I think the droplet appears out from the water of the paintbrush that is soak and wet already. Like only the dip of the brush, not the rest of it like the stick holding the brush. Since you mention about the part when someone put like a tension or pressure of the paintbrush against the appear downward, my guess is the wetness of the tip of the brush got squished too hard to the point where the water droplets spews out from there. And when the droplets revealed visibly on the paper, someone would think it is okay, or perhaps found it normal, and tap the paintbrush two, three, or more times. Seeing the paintbrush covered with the color of the paint and based on what Ms. Farrell had taught you, you have to dip it in water after that and keep on painting. However, if you were like to put a paintbrush with a brush covered in colors, the droplet on the paper suck the color out of the brush for like more than five times and you would soon find out that the result of a droplet taking the color covered out of the brush can lead you to paint in plain clear coloring. Kind of feel annoying when we feel like that once we get older" I explained. "That would sound understandable. Like I said before, I have no interest of painting, so I won't get annoy when I get older. At the same time, knowing throughout my school years in the future that painting is necessarily to pass on any require reasons" John replied. Later, Ms. Farrell finally got the stuff out from this one room that she had spent somewhat most of her time gathering and Mr. Jones had been helping her holding things she had extracted out of there. Simultaneously holding the door to still helping her hold some stuff with one arm, kind of looking like he is slouching down due to how hectically heavy Ms. Farrell had handed him. Closed the door after finishing getting the stuff out of there, also allowing Ms. Farrell to exit out of there and we all finally moving forward. "Thank you everybody for being patient. Now let's go to the gym" Ms. Goldsmith said and shows her arm gesture to reveal the direction where the gym is at. So everybody here in the line finally moving forward and walk to the direction where the gym is at. Halt at this particular spot for a little bit longer where I am standing next to the white tile walls with cartoon stick figures depicting us children. Like I had already explained before during the time when I first attended here at this school, I can pictured in my head as myself growing up in a family of six holding each other's hand and skip along the way onto a grass field. Not being satanic when I blindly step on a yellow flower after I had seen this one specific moment when that yellow flower make this shiny charming looks in its eyes as a sign that they do not want us to stomp them to death, yet I did remembered the times when I was roaming the backyard around freely that my father is doing something in the shed. Walking up tot he spot where my dad is at and noticed him pumping this handle with a plastic pole going up and down right into the curved barrel shaped looking container. Whatever it is inside of there, he carries it around with this other pole thing that has a spray nozzle on it and use whatever liquid thing to spray on the yellow flowers. I asked him what he is doing while I had been staring at the warning sign displayed on the side of the barrel shape container, he told me that the thing inside the container has chemical in there so he can use it to kill weeds. The type of weeds that is growing somewhere around the backyard and when I point at the two plants to my dad to figure out what weeds do they actually look like, he shake his head up and down to confirmed on what I had pointed out. The first weed that I pointed out is this stomp shape with bunch of leaves only sticking sideways with out anything else spewing out upward from the very center spot. The second one is the yellow flower and I was not surprised that my dad had told me that the one I had been mentioning about with imaginative face showing how randomly cute it is with cute shiny eyes and mouth displaying with a fitting facial expression. Just showing my own face as blank and I just stand there watching my dad just spray that hazardous chemical towards multiple yellow flowers he can ever see within his own eyes. Already been noted that the chemical he had sprayed towards a limit amount of yellow flowers, along with some other weeds we have in our backyard, can kill and dissolve it away. I am not going out of my way to earn myself the appellation of being the most weirdest kid by pushing my own dad on the ground to prevent him from spraying these small yellow flowers with the chemical he had kept pumping on and alternatively started crying out loud to the point where I presumed my dad had to take me back inside of the house. Been told to never come back outside of the backyard again until tomorrow because of my brain feeling like whatever I am thinking about that is ultra ridiculous. Aside from thinking small yellow flowers are too cute to get killed and not knowing if I would like to cry about the moment when my dad decided to kill them by spraying them with a hazardous chemical, I decided later on to put my right hand onto the white tiles wall and wanted to feel it. Putting my mind onto the white tile painting to come up how would I describe it and I was curious to knew what will happened if I can use my fingernail to attempt to scrape the paint off. Using my thumb fingernail to scrap that green painting that display as a grass and after repeatedly keep scratching it, I did not realize how hard it is. What kind of paint they use to prevent any people here to scrape it off? I thought they used a typical painting kit that we had been handed out and considering everybody here is more than welcome to wipe it off clean with their bare hands or their long sleeves shirt. So I pretend to think they use that kind of painting and try to toughly scrape it off with my thumb fingernail over and over until John has to said something to me. "Hey, what are you doing?" John asked and look at the direction where I am viewing at. Nothing like his tone defies as like he has a major problem on me doing whatever I want to do or having the tenacity to go very mad against me over my interaction with the things I see. "I want to see what happens if I scrape it off" I answered as I stopped scraping the painting of the white tiles and stare at John's eyes blankly. Luckily, John is really calm and not showing any sign of feeling agitated after he had seen me doing that to the painting white tiles. Even if he is feeling mad and feeling like he needs to tattle tell the teacher on me. I do not want to get in trouble on anything that I did not know it will make people around me feeling upset, yet I particularly would think Sarah could get in trouble at any moment. There is one out of hundred chance Sarah could get in trouble over her complaining on ridiculous things. Either whining over the fact that she is paying attention after Ms. Farrell thought she is not, claimed she is famous literally over nothing in this classroom, or absurdly get almost yelled at by one of the teacher over something else, I just want her to stop repeating the same behavior every time I go to school. Just put the past to aside and adjust her attitude, so that I am feeling comfortable interacting with her. So far, I can already tell that she had already change her habit, such as hanging out with Everlyn, Sadie, Emily, and McKenzie and giving herself the moment she wanted. Well, I am glad she had changed after barely over two months of this school and as I am focusing back towards the painting of the white tiles, I heard my name called out from someone afar distance. "Richard, let's go!" Mr. Jones said and some other people said the same thing from what he had said to me. Out of nowhere, there were some people who looks mad judging by the look of their face with their eyes wide enough to show how big mad they are. I randomly thought Ralph was going to be the only one who has to scream my name out loud and copies the way one of the three teachers had made their mad, furious facial expression at one of us who had done things that is kind of wrong. Okay, I mean, I am pretty sure making that kind of face towards me and get my name called out loud to move forward is not necessarily in my opinion.