(a true story)
He was magnificent. The biggest, most beautiful butterfly I had ever seen. A male monarch, fluttering his wings, bright orange with black veins.
Mrs. Kay, my sixth-grade teacher, had been teaching us about the life cycle of monarch butterflies and how to tell the difference between males and females. The male monarch had two black spots on his lower wings.
This monarch was definitely a male.
I saw him on a milkweed plant growing in the ditch next to the gravel road that ran past our farm. Mrs. Kay told our class that monarch butterflies needed milkweed plants to survive.
I gently picked him off the milkweed leaf and, cupping him in my hands, ran to the house to show mom.
I was excited. “Can I bring him to school for show-and-tell?”
“Yes.” We found a large empty peanut butter jar in the pantry to put him in. My mom punctured holes in the jar lid with a hammer and nail for air.
Outside in the yard, I found a twig. I added it to the jar, along with a piece of leaf, so he could have a place to rest and spread his wings.
Everyone seemed impressed when I presented my beautiful monarch to the class. I asked Mrs. Kay if I could put the jar in front of the window near my desk so I could keep an eye on him. He would enjoy the sunlight. And at the end of the school day, I would bring him home, back to the ditch, back to his milkweed plant.
Afternoon recess lasted twenty minutes. On the playground, some of my classmates wanted to talk about the monarch. How special he was!
Mrs. Kay blew the whistle for us to return to the classroom. Right away, I noticed the jar was no longer in front of the window near my desk. Where was my monarch?
Then I saw him. He lay flattened on a white piece of styrofoam slightly larger than his wingspan. Four metal push pins held his lifeless wings in place.
Mrs. Kay had killed my monarch.
My best friend whispered in my ear. “Did you know she was going to do this?”
Devastated, I shook my head, unable to speak. Although I had done nothing wrong, I felt guilty.
When the school bus brought me home that day, I saw the milkweed plants waiting in the ditch. My monarch was not coming home.
While my sixth-grade teacher was ignorant of her crime, I never forgave Mrs. Kay.
*THE END*
6 Responses
Janine,
I love this story, most of it, anyway. I can see the ditch by your house, your mom in the kitchen poking holes in the peanut butter lid. And the monarch sitting in the window by your desk. I can also see him on the styrofoam with pins in his wings. This part of the story made me very sad. Why on earth would Mrs Kay do that?
Wanda
Janine,
I remember that beautiful monarch butterfly and how excited and protective you were while taking him on the school bus. Some teachers take too much for granted. Mrs. Kay was added to my “you know what” list.
Mom
These things we remember, Janine! Children are wonderfully real and delicate like the Monarch butterfly. Thank you for sharing a sweet story.
Janet
Janine,
It’s remarkable that you told the story in so few words, which is part of the poetry of it.
I loved and was very impressed by this!
~Evan
This story holds so many beautiful and complex emotions and told ,as Evan said ,in a particularly beautiful poetic way. If I were your teacher I would give you an A+
aweeeeeee!