Chicken Bones had walked by Devonshire School almost every day because she walked with her mom almost every day. They went to the post office to pick up the mail from Box 838 and they walked to the library so Chicken Bones could take out another Raggedy Anne book. The high wide building with the huge stone steps was right on their route. Chicken Bones’ mom told Chicken Bones that was Devonshire School and that she would go there when she was ready for kindergarten. But when Chicken Bones looked at the metal wire across the windows and the chainlink fence around the gravel playground, she knew she wasn’t quite ready for kindergarten. She held on to her mom’s purse (it was easier to reach than her mom’s hand) and kept walking right by.
One day, Chicken Bones mom told her it was time for a new outfit and a scribbler and a pencil because Chicken Bones was five years old. It was time to start school. Chicken Bones was very excited about her new plaid jumper with the yellow velvet belt and the white blouse with puffy sleeves and the white ankle socks with brown leather t-strap shoes. Her new school supplies made her feel grown up, too. After she got her picture taken in front of her house, she walked with her mom just like always. Down Sutherland Avenue to Main Street, then all the way to Eaton Avenue where the big kid patrols helped them cross.
At the bottom of the stone stairs, Chicken Bones’ mom said goodbye. HER MOM SAID GOODBYE. And left. Chicken Bones had never been inside the prison fence. It felt very different from being outside of the fence and her stomach knotted. Her mom waved as she walked away. HER MOM WALKED AWAY. Chicken Bones dashed to the fence and clung to it. She tried to squeeze her hand through it. She tried to reach her mom. She tried to reach her mom’s purse. But her mom was a fast walker and was already a block away. Chicken Bones started to bawl.
Chicken Bones cried and clung until the bell rang. Finally, the teacher saw her and led her to the basement classroom. Chicken Bones did not know the other kids. She was embarrassed that she was still sobbing a bit. But she found a place to sit with three others, on pink benches at pink tables. Mrs. Hollinger was a kind lady. She taught Chicken Bones how to print her name neatly and how to colour pictures inside the lines. Chicken Bones kept wondering why there was wire across the windows but she got used to it.
Chicken Bones’ mom did not want her to be a spoiled child, so she told Chicken Bones that she would not be walking her to school anymore. Instead, she had found some friends for Chicken Bones to walk with. They were Nicholas, Ronnie, and Lionel. Together, the four five-year-olds made the trek to kindergarten for the rest of the school year. And Chicken Bones learned how to glue and how to skip and how to not cry.
Chicken Bones went on to finish elementary school (where she never got the strap) and junior high (where she was too scared to use the washrooms) and high school (where she was uncomfortable except in drama class where she could be somebody else). Chicken Bones even finished college and university and became a teacher herself. She tried to be gentle like Mrs. Hollinger. But Chicken Bones told her students that they could always colour outside of the lines. She told them to make their own lines. And to reach out. And to cry.
Conni Cartlidge
July 2025
In celebration of my 50th high school reunion.
