FREE ESSAY ON THE LADDER

THE LADDER

The Ladder
A brisk autumn wind combing through my hair and the early morning daystar barely peering
over the roof of the brick high school building at 7 o'clock. The day, three years ago in
the tenth grade, seemed so much like all the other days. If only I knew that my
experience that day would change my insight of how the world operates, at least the small
world I was living in at the time.
In rural areas, it is common to see underage drivers cruising down the road in a beat up
pick-up truck. To see a boy at school with a pocketknife was even more common. Well, it
just so happened that I was a boy with an Uncle Henry pocketknife on that ordinary fall
day. I, and everyone else, knew that it was against school policy to have a weapon, even
a pocketknife. No one said anything because no one cared. I used my pocketknife as a
handyman's apparatus. I used it to cut, open, pry, screw, or whatever else. It was my
tool, and I usually didn't go anywhere without it. However, I wished I had left my
multi-purpose gadget at home that day.
The day started going bad when an enemy of mine, an upper classman, Justin, was hanging
out in our territory. He and I never really got along. He was thuggishly leaning up
against the brick building in his shoddy tennis shoes, faded Levi jeans, and an
un-tucked, tacky-worn shirt. Just the sight of him made me want to bruise him up a bit.
He broke the silence with what seemed like an eruption from his benighted brain. "How
come you get here so early?" he asked, with an unnerving grin remaining on his face. 
Plainly, almost in monotone, I replied, "I have to. My mom has to go to work early."
He questioned me again, "Why don't you get a job and buy a car?" 
He was already getting on my nerves, so, I replied sharply, "I don't even have my
license. And where can I work around here? I can't drive to work anyways."
He then started the trouble. He said, "Whatever, you are just a big momma's boy and a
spoiled brat at that."
I quickly replied, "You're not going to think that when I cut your balls off with this
knife," simultaneously bringing out my knife and opening the small 3 inch blade. "And
this little blade is all it will take!"
He walked away mumbling nonsense under his breath. I replaced my Uncle Henry and
continued my day to my first class. I then continued my daily journey on to second
period. My routine, however, was suddenly interrupted at the end of second period. I was
summoned to the office. I was totally shocked and had no idea why I had to go. The minor
incident with Justin had completely slipped my mind. My useful companion had cut my way
into the office. I was sure of the wan, concerned expression on my face; I was concerned
about the severity of my punishment. Sitting in the office chair, slightly slouched, my
Adam's apple swelling, nearly constricting my breathing, I wouldn't move because of the
high pitched noise that the vinyl chair made. I felt that the punishment was already
being enforced. Coach Taylor, the assistant principal, stared at me with a troubled
demeanor.
He asked, "Mr. Ragsdale, is it true that you have a weapon of some sort in your
possession?"
"No, sir," I answered solemnly.
"Well," he started, in a matter of fact tone, "I have received an accusation from an
anonymous source that you have a pocketknife. Is this true?"
Still somber, I replied "Yes, sir."
"Could you give it to me, please?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I said while handing my gadget to him.
"Thank you," he said, seeming satisfied.
We then took a trip to Mr. Reed's office, the principal. Coach Taylor, Mr. Reed, and I
were in a confined space, surrounded by two dead deer, two dead ducks, a dead goose, a
dead bobcat, and a dead fox squirrel, all of which were looking at me. Mr. Reed began his
speech, probably unheard by Coach Taylor and himself, and surely unheard by me. His empty
words about what the handbook said about weapons flowed out of the closed doors through
the small keyholes. Finally, he concluded by uplifting my spirit, which I heard, of
course. He said, "Now David, we have never really had any trouble out of you. You are an
excellent student: good grades, extracurricular activities, very active. As you know, the
state tests are being given starting tomorrow. We need you to help bring up the school's
overall score. We aren't going to take any action for this offense…"
My heart leapt. I ecstatically thanked them both after he finished. He then interrupted
my solitude celebrating; "You will receive your pocketknife at the end of the nine weeks;
it will be given to your parents." I continued where I left off in my concealed
rejoicing.
In the midst of my rejoicing, I realized what had just happened. I was acquitted because
of my accomplishments, my "responsibilities" I had established. I found it amazing, and
so political that that could happen. Sure, political and social preference was displayed
on TV, but in high school? In my life? I gained a lesson and acquired an advantage
pertaining to society and the ladder of success. Being clean cut, social, knowing the
right people, and "doing the right things" will take you a long ways up the ladder.