Category: Fiction

Imagination: Lost and Found. Lil’ Dweeb is on the verge of losing his imagination forever, until one remarkable book changes everything.

Lil’ Dweeb grabbed his back pack off the hook and flew down the stairs.

“You’re going to kill yourself!” His mother yelled. Lil’ Dweeb knew that his sprints down the stairs always freaked his mother out, but he just couldn’t help himself. Today was the first day of school.

Lil’ Dweeb jumped in the car. Seat belt fastened. Backpack clutched. He trembled through a smile the entire two and a half minute ride to the school. Lil’ Dweeb thought the ride was an eternity.

When he arrived, Lil’ Dweeb found the line to his fourth grade classroom and followed his new classmates in to meet their teacher.  He found his name at the bottom of the seating chart hung beside the classroom door. The students were assigned their seats alphabetically by last name, so Lil’ Dweeb Weeb took his seat in the back corner.

“Welcome class, I am Mrs. Crow,” the teacher said as she wrote her name on the blackboard.

Lil’ Dweeb could make out the letters just fine, but he shifted in his seat to see around the head of the girl sitting in front of him. She was taller than he was.

“You, in the back,” Mrs. Crow said as she glanced at her seating chart, “Is there a problem…Lil’ Dweeb?”

Lil’ Dweeb looked to his left and right. The eyes of every student in class were trained on him. And he was the only Dweeb.

“No, Mrs. Crow.” Lil’ Dweeb said. He thought his answer may have sounded more like a question.

“I hope not. Moving on,” Mrs. Crow said.

Mrs. Crow handed a stack of worksheets to a student in the front row. The student distributed the assignment throughout the class. After a brief lesson, the students were given thirty minutes to complete the assignment. Lil’ Dweeb clicked a bit of lead out of his pencil and got to work. When he finished the worksheet, he reviewed his work. He gazed up at the clock. There were still ten minutes left to complete the assignment. All of the other students appeared to be busy and Lil’ Dweeb thought he ought to look the same.

Lil’ Dweeb retrieved a blank piece of notebook paper from his desk and clicked a little more lead from his pencil. He thought about how exciting the unknown could be. All of the possibilities fourth grade had to offer lay before him. He began to scribble down a story about a brave astronaut, traveling through space in search of the excitement that comes with the unknown.

Just as the astronaut’s spaceship approached the black hole, the piece of notebook paper was snatched off Lil’ Dweeb’s desk. Mrs. Crow loomed over Lil’ Dweeb as she perused the parchment.

“What is this?” Mrs. Crow asked.

“A story.” Lil’ Dweeb said.

“Are we supposed to be writing stories in the middle of class?”

“No, Mrs. Crow.”  Another answer that sounded more like a question.

“No.” Mrs. Crow paused, her scowl burning into Lil’ Dweeb’s memory. “Is your work finished?”

“Yes.”

“Did you double check it?”

“Yes, Mrs. Crow.”

“Then triple check it.” Mrs. Crow leaned over Lil’ Dweeb’s desk, causing Lil’ Dweeb to lean back in his seat. He tried to keep his distance. “No more of this in my class ok?”

“Yes, Mrs. Crow.”

Mrs. Crow stomped away, crumpled up the piece of notebook paper, and tossed it into the waste basket beside her desk.

Mrs. Crow collected the worksheets when the lesson concluded. She handed another stack of papers to a student in the front row.

“Alright class, this is a test,” Mrs. Crow said. A few students grumbled at the idea of a test on the first day of school. “Now I’ll have none of that. This is merely to gauge how well you have retained what you learned last year.”

Another click of the pencil and Lil’ Dweeb began the exam. He read each question twice, making sure to carefully circle each correct answer. First answer- A, second- C.

“Lil’ Dweeb.” Mrs. Crow called from the front of the class.

Lil’ Dweeb looked up from his test booklet. “Yes, Mrs Crow?”

“Is there a problem with your chair?”

Lil’ Dweeb turned to look down at his chair. His desk seemed to be in working order.

“No, Mrs. Crow.” That’s when Lil’ Dweeb realized he was standing.

“Then sit in it.”

Lil’ Dweeb took his seat with alacrity and refocused his attention on the test. Next answer- A, next answer- B.

“Lil’ Dweeb.” Mrs. Crow said.

Lil’ Dweeb looked up from his exam again and almost fell backward over his chair. Mrs. Crow had approached his desk like a ninja and stood right in front of him. She seemed a bit shorter than the last time she towered over his desk. That’s when Lil’ Dweeb realized he was standing again.

“If you don’t know the answer,” Mrs. Crow said, “looking at the tests of others will not help. That is cheating.”

“But I know the answer, it’s B.” Lil’ Dweeb saw faces twitch as the rest of the students suddenly tried to figure out which test question he was talking about. Mrs. Crow wrinkled her brow in a manner that made Lil’ Dweeb fall back into his chair. Then came the finger point.

“You are going to sit in my class young man. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mrs. Crow,” Lil’ Dweeb said. When Mrs. Crow walked away, Lil’ Dweeb pulled himself and his chair as far as he could under the desk, hoping the desk itself would keep him horizontal. He had to focus a fair amount of his attention to his posture and position in the seat, but he struggled through the rest of the test. Lil’ Dweeb marked the last few answers in his exam booklet and put his pencil down.

What now? Lil’ Dweeb knew he couldn’t write, so he opened his desk and retrieved a book.

“Lil’ Dweeb, what are you doing?” Mrs. Crow asked.

All eyes on him again. “I finished my test. I was just gonna-”

“Put the book away and just sit there quietly. You are distracting other students.” Mrs. Crow moved only her lips when she spoke.

Lil’ Dweeb jammed the book back into his desk and sat back in his chair. He attempted to keep his attention at the ready, but once the boredom overtook him, he felt imprisoned.

His clothes were replaced by a prison striped jumper. Lil’ Dweeb noticed iron bars on the windows that weren’t there moments before. Through the bars, on the school lawn, another prison inmate battled guards in an attempt to break into the prison. The inmate approached the window. He ducked just in time to dodge the rock the security guard threw at him. The rock smashed a chunk out of the window.

“Lil’ Dweeb!” the inmate yelled as he reached through broken glass to pull at at iron bars. “Lil’ Dweeb!”

“Lil Dweeb!” Mrs. Crow slammed both hands down onto the desk top.

Lil’ Dweeb jumped in his chair. His clothes were back. No bars. No hole in the window. No escape. He looked up at the warden, completely unsure what was going to happen next. He had just been an accessory to a prison break.

“Were you paying attention to anything I just said?” Mrs. Crow asked.

“Not really, no.” Lil’ Dweeb said. The best thing he thought he could do was just come clean about it. He wasn’t going to pass a quiz on anything she said during the last few minutes.

“Get your head out of the clouds and back in this classroom young man,” Mrs. Crow said. “This is going to be a long year, isn’t it Lil’ Dweeb?”

That was the exact moment Lil’ Dweeb knew it was going to be a loooong year.

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“Get your butt out of bed,” Lil’ Dweeb’s mom yelled up the stairs, “It is the first day of school.”

It took Lil’ Dweeb ten minutes to descend nine stairs. He grabbed his backpack off the hook and his mother shoved him out the door. He took his time getting into the car. He barely got his seat belt fastened and his mom rolled up to the school drop-off zone. Lil’ Dweeb was sure that over the summer, someone had relocated the school a block or two closer to home.

Once inside, Lil’ Dweeb found the line to his fifth grade classroom and shuffled after his new classmates.  Lil’ Dweeb didn’t bother to check the seating chart beside the classroom door. He walked into class and headed straight for the rear corner.

“Welcome class, I am Mrs. Muse,” the teacher said as she wrote her name on the blackboard.

Lil’ Dweeb shifted in his seat to see around the head of the girl sitting in front of him. She was even taller this year.

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Muse said as she glanced at her seating chart, “Lil’ Dweeb, are you having difficulty reading the blackboard?”

Lil’ Dweeb looked to his left and right. That familiar sensation of having all eyes on you. And he was still the only Dweeb.

“No, Mrs. Muse. I’m sorry, I’ll try to sit still.” Lil’ Dweeb said. He tried to sit up a little straighter in his chair.

“There is no need to apologize Mr. Weeb,” Mrs. Muse said, “Why don’t you switch seats with the young lady in front of you. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

The girl in front of Lil’ Dweeb turned to smile at him. She grabbed her books from her desk, picked up her bag, and stood out of her chair.

“Ok.” Lil’ Dweeb said. He too collected his things and made the desk switch. He hesitated to sit in the new chair. Something wasn’t right. This was different. The chair was probably a trap.

“Moving on,” Mrs. Muse said.

Mrs. Muse handed a stack of worksheets to a student in the front row. The student distributed the assignment throughout the class. Lil’ Dweeb had been through this before. After the brief lesson, the students were given thirty minutes to complete the assignment. Lil’ Dweeb sharpened his pencil. He no longer used the click pencils since they were constantly being taken away from him in Mrs. Crow’s class. When he finished the worksheet, he reviewed his work. He gazed up at the clock. There were still ten minutes left to complete the assignment and Lil’ Dweeb knew he faced a potentially life-threatening choice. He could either agonize over his boredom for the next ten minutes, or he could rebel. Lil’ Dweeb wondered if a rebellion was the kind of thing he needed to get through this school year.

Lil’ Dweeb retrieved a blank piece of notebook paper from his desk and sharpened his pencil to a fine point. He thought about how exciting and dangerous a personal rebellion could be.  He began to scribble down a story about a brave group of human children, conspiring in secret to overthrow their evil alien cat overlords.

Just as the children were about to face the Mother Cat, the piece of notebook paper was scooped off Lil’ Dweeb’s desk. Mrs. Muse stood over Lil’ Dweeb as she read his story.

“What is this?” Mrs. Muse asked.

“A story.” Lil’ Dweeb said.

“Have you finished your assignment?”

“Yes, Mrs. Muse.”  Lil’ Dweeb found himself back in the habit of making his answers sound like questions.

Mrs. Muse took another glance at Lil’ Dweeb’s story. “Do you think I am an evil alien cat overlord Lil’ Dweeb?”

“No, Mrs. Muse.” Lil’ Dweeb said. And it was the truth. He had no beef with her, at least not yet. He thought the alien cats were more of a general symbol for child oppression in public school systems across the board.

“This is good.” Mrs. Muse said as she returned the notebook paper gently to the desk top. “Make sure you finish it.”

“Yes, Mrs. Muse.” Lil’ Dweeb said as his teacher walked away. That interaction did not go as Lil’ Dweeb anticipated.

Mrs. Muse collected the worksheets when the lesson ended. She handed another stack of papers to a student in the front row.

“Alright class, time for a test,” Mrs. Muse said. The familiar grumble of unhappy students. Mrs. Muse responded first with a smile. “Don’t worry about this one. I’m only going to use to help personalize my lesson plan for the year.”

Another twist of the pencil in the sharpener and Lil’ Dweeb began the exam. He read each question twice, making sure to carefully circle each correct answer, as always. First answer- D, second- E.

“Lil’ Dweeb.” Mrs. Muse called from the front of the class.

Lil’ Dweeb looked up from his test booklet. Here we go again. “Yes, Mrs. Muse?”

“Is there a problem with your chair?”

Lil’ Dweeb turned to look down at his chair. Every desk and chair he ever had were adequate. It wasn’t the chair. He knew he was standing. He knew it as soon as Mrs. Muse called out to him. “No, Mrs. Muse. I’m sorry.”

“Why were you standing?” Mrs. Muse asked.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Muse. It won’t happen again.”

“You are not in trouble Lil’ Dweeb so please answer my question.” Mrs. Muse said.

“It happens sometimes when I concentrate,” Lil’ Dweeb said, “I don’t know. Maybe it helps my blood flow. I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”

Mrs. Muse thought for a moment. “If you are more comfortable standing during tests, I have no problem with that.”

“I’ll try to- what?” Lil’ Dweeb was not sure if he heard his teacher correctly. He wondered for a moment if he should have stayed back a grade.

“As long as I don’t catch you looking at other students’ work, you’re fine.” Mrs. Muse said.

“Oh,” said Lil’ Dweeb. He looked around the room. This was less entertaining to the other students than the trouble he would get into with Mrs. Crow. “Thanks Mrs. Muse.”

Lil’ Dweeb stood with alacrity and refocused his attention on the test. Next answer- A, next answer- C.

Lil’ Dweeb marked the last few answers in his exam booklet and put his pencil down. What now? Lil’ Dweeb opened his desk and retrieved his science text book. He flipped the book open to the chapter on Jupiter and the big red spot.

“Lil’ Dweeb, what are you doing?” Mrs. Muse asked. She stood beside Lil’ Dweeb’s desk.

Lil’ Dweeb figured she must have trained as a ninja at Mrs. Crow’s dojo. All students’ eyes were back on him. “I finished my test. I was just gonna-”

“Try this one instead.” Mrs. Muse placed a book down in front of Lil’ Dweeb. A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L’Engle. “This is our first lesson in literature and I bet you’ll enjoy it.”

“Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Muse.” Lil’ Dweeb said as Mrs. Muse returned to the head of the class.

Lil’ Dweeb opened the book and traveled to another world. There was magic and tesseracts. There was an evil man with glowing eyes. Secret government intrigue. There were witches. There were metronomes and credible threats to creativity and free thinking. Charles Wallace screamed through the pages. “Lil’ Dweeb! Lil’ Dweeb!”

“Lil’ Dweeb?” Mrs. Muse asked.

Lil’ Dweeb was snapped back to reality. His hands were sweaty. There were wrinkles in the pages where he gripped the book. “Yes, Mrs. Muse?”

“Were you paying attention to anything I was saying?” she asked.

“No, Mrs. Muse.” Lil’ Dweeb confessed. The old honest approach.

“The book is good isn’t it?” Mrs. Muse asked.

“Yes, very.”

“This is going to be a good year for you Lil’ Dweeb.” Mrs. Muse said.

That was the exact moment Lil’ Dweeb knew it was going to be a great school year.

~ Dan Webber

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In my youth, I always had my head in the clouds. These days, I keep at least one foot firmly planted on the ground for my family’s sake. I manage to keep my imagination in check, but that wasn’t always the case. My environment did not always react positively to my overactive imagination. For a while there, I treated my imagination as an obstacle to overcome. My environment would often encourage me to do so.

And then I read A Wrinkle In Time. The book captivated my imagination with a beautiful blend of magic, science, and fantasy. It was written by an adult whose dreams were more vivid than mine. Madeleine L’Engle was awarded the John Newbery Medal for A Wrinkle In Time. Her novel reached a larger main stream audience, and was taught in a fifth grade classroom.

A Wrinkle In Time taught me that my imagination was not something to be extinguished. It was valuable. It was true. An imagination is something to be nurtured, managed, and shared. I learned that my imagination is valid. So is yours. Share that imagination with anyone who will experience it, whether one person or one billion. Dream all the dreams. Allow other to play in them and play in the dreams of others.

Disney has adapted A Wrinkle In Time into a feature film that releases nation wide today (March 9th, 2018).  The book is always better than the movie, but Disney does know how to tell a great story. Here’s hoping Disney gives this adaptation the love it deserves.

What does your imagination mean to you? Do you use it or do you fight it? Has it helped or hindered? Have you ever felt that your imagination was invalid- that it was somehow different or less important than what is “real”?

Let’s talk.

~ Dan Webber

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