1. To Be a Paladin<br />By:<br />Peter Derks<br />March 22, 2010<br />Mr. Kabachia<br />Humanities 30-1<br />Fear stricken, like a wounded gazelle staring up through a disheartening shadow. A figure represented by a black lion charges down a cliff side. The Boys feet becoming snared by the shear domination of the monster, his eyes become stale as the image pierces towards his retina. A vicious pound to the boy’s chest places him in the center of a puddle of mud, the size of an ocean. <br />Front door to an acreage on a forgotten hillside slams shut, as tears stain the floor. The boy’s mother confronts him as she has done many times before, through observation she concludes that another incident at school has left her child traumatized. The child rushes off into his bedroom, his cage. Another door closes, as the innocent boy sinks through the covers on his bed. A question arises in his mind on whether his placement, as a 5th grader at the Lacombe Elementary School, will be worth-while. A direct comparison between grades and vulnerability emerges in his mind, perhaps if he became dumber he would be able to come home without any bruises or scars. He feels disappointed at the truth of it; the un-smart students never get picked on. Perhaps not going to school is the solution to the drudgery of being the most intellectual person in the school. To others, it is difficult to imagine how being smart can lead to an increase in your enemies and your fear of entering into an institution on a daily basis. A spear runs through his chest “as if the life were rushing out of [him].” A frantic cry frees itself from his mouth “as if a shout could perhaps drive the [fear] back into its cave.” Perhaps he feels like an outcast because he “[is] inherently bad, a spiritual defective.” The boy’s self esteem tumbles down and he is left in a deep pit of despair, his emotions “fluttered and flew crazily, like an enormous trapped hawk hunting frantically for escape”. An aching tear in his chest pushes the tears out of his eyes, and the warmth in his head and hands becomes a searing, scorching pain. <br />The covers slide over his head, as he enters a realm where the shear stillness of the air binds him and stalls his excessive rage. One hand feels a rigid, fur-like ball; the boy clings onto the object with unwavering vigor. He soon realizes it is a stuffed animal, one true friend, the wake of despair is lifted. “The [toy] seemed now as much a part of him as his arm or leg.” Invincibility is felt within his fortress of solitude, as the absorbent toy drains away the tears and trauma. He does not care that a 5th grader is still consoled by a plush animal, because it is no disposable toy but a tool, a weapon. A bully is but a fly on the wall when you know there is a guardian awaiting your arrival, a warrior that will fight your emotions when you arrive home. With the power of the stuffed animal he can walk down a hallway without feeling the sting of a metal locker. His head may be held with pride, even though the rest of him is lathered with mud. As ironic as it may sound, a simple toy in the right hands is a mighty sword that will make its presence known whenever a derogatory word is direct towards him. A simple toy is a set of golden armor that will take the blow of even the harshest of physical pushes. The boy felt like a paladin awaiting his march into glorious battle, whatever the outcome. The dishonor and uncertainty of the school and the other children was never felt again, because in his hand he held a small plush toy, his suit of shining armor. There would be countless battles that must be fought until he reaches a state of equilibrium with his peers, these struggles are made easier to fight with simple objects that provide warmth when the shadow of doubt creeps over. <br />