The Ladder Essays - , Term Papers, Research Papers

The Ladder The Ladder A brisk autumn wind combing through my hair and the early morning daystar barely peering over the roof of the brick high school building at 7 oclock. The day, three years ago in the tenth grade, seemed so much like all the other days. If only I knew that my experience that day would change my insight of how the world operates, at least the small world I was living in at the time. In rural areas, it is common to see underage drivers cruising down the road in a beat up pick-up truck. To see a boy at school with a pocketknife was even more common. Well, it just so happened that I was a boy with an Uncle Henry pocketknife on that ordinary fall day. I, and everyone else, knew that it was against school policy to have a weapon, even a pocketknife. No one said anything because no one cared. I used my pocketknife as a handymans apparatus. I used it to cut, open, pry, screw, or whatever else. It was my tool, and I usually didnt go anywhere without it. However, I wished I had left my multi-purpose gadget at home that day. The day started going bad when an enemy of mine, an upper classman, Justin, was hanging out in our territory. He and I never really got along. He was thuggishly leaning up against the brick building in his shoddy tennis shoes, faded Levi jeans, and an un-tucked, tacky-worn shirt. Just the sight of him made me want to bruise him up a bit. He broke the silence with what seemed like an eruption from his benighted brain. How come you get here so early? he asked, with an unnerving grin remaining on his face. Plainly, almost in monotone, I replied, I have to. My mom has to go to work early. He questioned me again, Why dont you get a job and buy a car? He was already getting on my nerves, so, I replied sharply, I dont even have my license. And where can I work around here? I cant drive to work anyways. He then started the trouble. He said, Whatever, you are just a big mommas boy and a spoiled brat at that. I quickly replied, Youre not going to think that when I cut your balls off with this knife, simultaneously bringing out my knife and opening the small 3 inch blade. And this little blade is all it will take! He walked away mumbling nonsense under his breath. I replaced my Uncle Henry and continued my day to my first class. I then continued my daily journey on to second period. My routine, however, was suddenly interrupted at the end of second period. I was summoned to the office. I was totally shocked and had no idea why I had to go. The minor incident with Justin had completely slipped my mind. My useful companion had cut my way into the office. I was sure of the wan, concerned expression on my face; I was concerned about the severity of my punishment. Sitting in the office chair, slightly slouched, my Adams apple swelling, nearly constricting my breathing, I wouldnt move because of the high pitched noise that the vinyl chair made. I felt that the punishment was already being enforced. Coach Taylor, the assistant principal, stared at me with a troubled demeanor. He asked, Mr. Ragsdale, is it true that you have a weapon of some sort in your possession? No, sir, I answered solemnly. Well, he started, in a matter of fact tone, I have received an accusation from an anonymous source that you have a pocketknife. Is this true? Still somber, I replied Yes, sir. Could you give it to me, please? he asked. Yes, sir, I said while handing my gadget to him. Thank you, he said, seeming satisfied. We then took a trip to Mr. Reeds office, the principal. Coach Taylor, Mr. Reed, and I were in a confined space, surrounded by two dead deer, two dead ducks, a dead goose, a dead bobcat, and a dead fox squirrel, all of which were looking at me. Mr. Reed began his speech, probably unheard by Coach Taylor and himself, and surely unheard by me. His empty words about what