The Sunday Whirl 579- Baker’s Dozen-Debating Kids’ Futures

spin, creep, loom, whirl, crack, light, grip, stain, curl, glimpse, slack, lord, wonder

I caught a glimpse of my archrival in the crowd and felt like I wanted to curl my ‘tail’ between my legs and light out of the auditorium. The Superintendent and I had had an indelible ‘stain‘ on our pretense of mutual respect since our unfortunate heated confrontation months ago.
“Get a grip!” was my brain’s immediate response.
“That ‘creep‘ can’t crack your confidence unless you let her.”

I then whispered to myself as I bowed in a moment of prayer, “Lord, please don’t let me defeat myself today. This is for the kids.”

The debate was about to start, and the whirl of noise began to settle as we took our seats on the stage.
After a brief introduction by the event organizer, we were called upon to present our cases on the topic of Homeschooling vs Public School.

My job was going to be extra difficult because of the venue itself. There’s no need to wonder about the uphill battle in presenting an argument in front of professionals eyeing me with furrowed brows from the audience. I’d call that a looming pressure. If I couldn’t effectively appeal to these people who are holding their own pre-conceived preferences, they’d easily ‘spin‘ my ‘points’ as proof of Public Schooling superiority.

All we disenchanted parents wanted was the freedom to choose without governmental regulatory interference.

When my turn came, I brought out the BIG guns first.

” You all know the first woman on our esteemed Supreme Court. Sandra Day O’Connor was a brilliant legal scholar, a pioneer in breaking down professional barriers to women, and the product of early homeschooling. Thomas Edison and Theodore Roosevelt spent their whole young lives being homeschooled too.”

It was then that the Superintendent’s defiant face and pursed lips went slack.

Wordle #293-Unpleasant Reflections


The mirror in the abandoned mansion was tired of watching the, now terribly troubled, clock which once stood stoically straight directly across from the stairs. Each and every dawn revealed a slightly new discoloration and further leanings. If she had hands, she’d be willing to toss it onto a junk pile thus improving her unpleasant view of the unceasing degradation of the once grand manor.
The tired clock was well aware of the mirror’s condescending opinion and decided to put an end to her suffering by furrowing the brow on its rusting, once gloriously ornate, grandfatherly face creaking his hands to stop turning.
He’d struggled for too long to keep time in the current unappreciated circumstance, after all. Every tick was forced and the tocks were erratically jumping ahead with an uncertain quickening quiver.
The mirror never noticed his sacrifice since time now stood still. There was no more waiting… no more longing… there was no more time for her to reflect on anything.