Jonathots Daily Blog
(2317)
English class.
Right before lunch.
Four days before Easter.
Since everyone was giddy, ready for spring break, the teacher intelligently surrendered to the atmosphere, forsook all nouns and verbs, and instead, posed the question: “What are you doing for Easter?”
Everyone joined in enthusiastically with their plans.
“Ham.”
“Church.”
“Family.”
“Trip to New York.”
“Dinner with friends.”
“A cantata.”
And then, out of nowhere, a young girl who was normally pretty quiet and reserved, piped in:
“I’m waiting for the Easter bunny.”
There were a few chuckles, since the majority of the room believed that such a proclamation was impossible to take seriously.
Now, this young girl’s name was Dollie. She was tall, gangly, bespectacled, often escaping into her own thoughts, but dressed very fancy because her family was loaded. She was a fair student, a little silly, and now, suddenly, with a full spotlight on her in an adolescent English class, found herself the sole advocate for the Easter bunny.
The teacher, attempting to get Dollie off the hook by changing the subject, posed an additional question to the entire class: did they like pineapple on their ham, or raisin sauce?
Yet Dollie persisted, oblivious to the social cliff looming in the near distance.
“The Easter bunny lives in a hole in my back yard.”
She nearly sang it. Yet to the classroom, the idea was off-key.
We were all stalled. We glanced around the room at one another in horror and disbelief, when all at once, the most popular cheerleader laughed out loud. Everyone, feeling license to participate, joined in heartily.
Dollie sat, nearly in tears, perturbed and perplexed that everyone had selected an agnostic position concerning the Divine Easter Bunny who slept in her back yard, awaiting the opportunity to bring candy to all the good little boys and girls.
Fortunately, at that point the inquisition was interrupted by the ringing bell announcing lunch period. Everyone leaped to their feet and headed to the door, still giggling and whispering.
Dollie remained in her chair, stung, emotionally bleeding and bewildered that her faith in the Great Rabbit had been marched into the coliseum of public opinion and slaughtered by the lions of ridicule.
I felt compelled to do something–but I was just a kid. So I walked over and patted her on the shoulder and said, “You know, that’s really dumb. There’s no Easter bunny.”
That was the extent of my empathy.
I then walked from the room, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
It wasn’t the last time I would have an encounter with Miss Dollie.
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