To Kill a Mocking Bird *1* ~Ch. 1-3~ Perspective: Walter Cunningham

The summer of 1933 was a long and boring one. “There was no hurry, for there was nowhere to go, nothing to buy and no money to buy it with, nothing to see outside the boundaries of Maycomb County. But it was a time of vague optimism for some of the people: Maycomb County had recently been told that it had nothing to fear but fear itself”. It was the Great Depression, and being a member of the even poorer family living on the outskirts of town did not help me get by. I was constantly ridiculed by those around me as if I was even less of a person. On some level, I felt I understood what was going on to a great extent, but the truth was I was only 6 years old. Whenever, I opened my mouth to mama and ranted about our situation, she just hushed me and told me I was too little to understand. As the breeze of the autumn nights grew closer, it came to me that I would be beginning the 1st grade…the very thought of it made me clutch my stomach in sickness. I already had created everything it would be in my mind, and I truly loathed it. It seemed that the next time the sun raised itself, there I was walking towards my new school. I fingered a strap sewed onto a potato sack, or in other words, my book bag. My plan was to go about merely unnoticed and hope for little interaction with my fellow classmates and teacher. I walked in the door and they all stared at me like a cockroach scurrying on the floor. In the back of my mind, I prayed someone was standing behind me and they saw right through me, but that was a silly thought. So, I scurried to a desk that read “Walter Cunningham” in thick black letters.

I was dazing out the window when I heard the sound of a lady’s heels walk through the desk. She stopped at my desk and as I looked up, a sweet and rather innocent face peered down at me, Miss Caroline. I knew that she was an unfamiliar face even before she said she was from a sketchy part of Alabama. She wasn’t like the rest of us, quite eccentric actually. She simply asked where my lunch was and I replied that I haven’t got one. Of course, sitting in rows of students with neatly folded paper bags, I most definitely stood out. I could have predicted what was going to come next, because she knew nothing about the families in Maycomb. She walked towards her purse and retrieved a quarter that reflected the light beams from the window. She told me she would lend it to me and her peppermint red lips swept into a smile. My heard stopped and my brain did a back flip. I felt an unimplied sense of intimidation thrust upon me. One thousand million thoughts raced through my tiny pea brain. I didn’t know to take it or to leave it. But, before my thoughts spilled from my mouth, Scout’s voice came from the back of the room with some strange pronouncement. That poor soul was trying to explain my lack of money but Miss Caroline stared at her like a chicken mooing. For about the third time that day, the only thing Scot had done was get herself in all kinds of trouble from the teacher.

The bell rang, and the next instant I found myself inhaling dirt plagued by the hands of little children. Scouts hand was gripped firmly behind by neck and she was using all her force to lower my face as far down as possible until I was almost staring into the depths of hell. I’m not sure what I could have done that irked her so much. I could not see, but I felt the presence of other students encircling the scene she had created. I heard footsteps come near and then the faint sound of Jem’s voice. I prayed that he had come to save me from this malevolent little girl…and then her hand released.