Recess

I won't! the little boy on the playground yelled, And you can't make me!

Around him, the circle of children threw taunts and called him names but he stood his ground, defiantly crossing his arms and looking fiercely back at them. His lower lip trembled when the first rock was thrown and he began to cry with the second one but he was surrounded and there was no place to run. Slowly but without hesitation, the other children began to close in on him and just as I put down my camera and headed in their direction, a teacher noticed the commotion and ran to intervene. Time out! she shouted and broke through the small circle with ease. Children scattered in all directions like leaves in the wind. She took the little boy's hand in her's and led him away, speaking in a low, gentle voice and keeping a close watch around her - he clung to her skirts, eyes cast downward on his small, muddy, sneakered feet, wiping away tears with one balled up fist. I watched her sit him down on the entrance steps and put one arm around his shoulders. She ruffled his hair and gave him a hug, then produced a bright blue handkerchief from her pocket and casually put it into his hands. When he finally began to speak, the schoolyard grew unnaturally quiet, the eyes of all the children, those who had made up the circle and those who had not, seemed to focus in on the two figures on the steps. Not long after, the bell rang and the playground emptied. The teacher and the little boy were the last to leave, walking side by side through the double doors and still holding hands. I hoped that whatever it had been about was over but had my doubts - there are children who are as equally capable of mob mentality and cruelty as any adult - and sadly, there's a little bit of predator and prey in all of us, no matter our age.

Recess was over and the deserted schoolyard was now silent and dusty - it might have been a vacant lot save for
the swings and slide, the jungle bars and the well worn baseball diamond. There was a hint of sadness to it, a barely lonely feel as if it were calling to the children to come out and play again. I won't! I could almost hear the little boy shouting again, And you can't make me!

It didn't seem important what the stand off had been about - it had been important enough to take a stand for.