What I Didn’t Learn from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood

     "Teacher!  Teacher!  Juanita’s bleeding!"  There I was in the midst of all my classmates, with blood gushing from my nose.  My beautiful white dress was ruined!  My bouncy, curly ponytails now sagged, one slightly higher than the other.
     It was a brisk October day in 1983 when it all happened.  I was so excited to go to school, day care, that is.  My mother had just bought me a new box of crayons.  It was the seventy-two count box of Crayolas, and back then, a child who had those was in the "big league."  
     I got up early that morning and woke my mother up to help me get dressed.  She said, "Let’s see Sweetie, what can you wear today?"  Mom always let me help in the selection f my outfits for school.  "How about that white dress that Grandma gave you for your birthday?"
     I smiled brightly as she made the suggestion because she knew that I loved that dress.  It was knee length with lace on the collar and the hem.  I wore it with my long knee high socks and white patent leather shoes.  My mother made me two ponytails that would curl naturally.  She put a pretty white ribbon around each one.  It was my very favorite outfit.
     So there I was, all pretty and eager to show my friends my new gift.  I had my Strawberry Shortcake lunch box in one hand, my teddy bear in the other.  I wanted to keep my crayons a surprise until I got to school, so I hid them in my Strawberry Shortcake backpack.  At the time, Strawberry Shortcake was my idol; I thought she was the coolest girl in town.
     My mom left me at Lad and Lassie at my usual time, 7:45 A.M., and I was anxiously awaiting to see my friends.  My best friend, Rey, was the first to arrive.  The moment he got there I hollered, "Hey Rey," in my cute little four year-old voice, "Come here, I want to show you what I got!"
     "What?" he answered back annoyingly.  "Another doll?"  Rey was a sassy little tike, especially early in the morning.
     "No, look!"  I said as I reached into my backpack.  It was as if I was pulling out a treasure; like an object on television or a cartoon that has that little yellow gold-like "glow" to it.
     "WOW!  You got the box!"  As Rey stared in awe at my gift, all the other children in our class arrived. "Hey everybody, come here!  Look, Juanita got the cool crayons!"   Everyone was circling around me as if I had gold.
     "Wow Juanita, that’s so cool!  Where did you get them?  You must have been really good!"  All the kids were asking me excitedly; I was blushing proudly.  It was a great feeling knowing that I was the first in my class to have the seventy-two box of crayons.
     "Now children..." my teacher, Mrs. Barrientos, said firmly, "what’s the rule about yelling?"
     "Sorry teacher, it’s just that Juanita..." Rey began explaining, "Juanita has the seventy-two box of crayons, LOOK!"
     "Okay, okay, that is very nice for her.  Can we please settle down now.  Everyone choose a coloring book from the table."  Mrs. Lopez insisted.
     Everyone rushed in a frenzy to choose the best coloring book, one that didn’t have too many pages colored on and enough cool pictures to color.  I, on the other hand, settled with my utmost admiration, Strawberry Shortcake; all was going great.
     A few minutes into the activity, kids began asking me to borrow my colors.  "Juanita, can I borrow your yellow?"  
     "Can you lend me the blue?"  I would pass them over nicely.  But soon, it became a little too annoying.  I decided that I wasn’t going to lend anyone my colors because they were all mine, and they had their own.
     "Hey Juanita, lend me your red so I can color my fire engine," Ruben, a classmate of mine, told me.
     "No," I said nicely, but I don’t think he took it that well.  He walked over to me and asked me again, "Lend me your red crayon."
     I said no once more, this time a little more abruptly.  "They are my crayons and I don’t want to lend them to anyone!"
     At that instant, Ruben pushed me and punched me right in the nose.  That’s when all the children screamed to the teacher for help.
     "Teacher!  Teacher!  Juanita’s bleeding!  Come quick!"
     I stood there in a mixture of blood and tears wondering what I had done wrong.  The teacher came rushing towards us and asked, "What’s going on over here?" 
     "Ruben hit me teacher..." between sniffles "he hit me in the nose!"
     "It’s her fault," Ruben pointed at me angrily, "she wouldn’t lend me her crayon!"
     "They’re mine!" I yelled.
     "Quiet down children." Mrs. Lopez said firmly. "Ruben, I want you to apologize to Juanita and go stand in the corner."
     "But teacher..."
     "No buts Ruben, do as I say.  I will deal with you later."
     "I’m sorry Juanita," Ruben said sincerely, "but you need to learn how to share.  Don’t you watch Mr. Rogers?  He can teach you.
     "Juanita, come with me.  Let’s go wash your face and call your mother."  Mrs. Lopez whispered.
       Still in tears, I looked down and saw that my favorite dress had blood stains.  It was not a good day.
     Mom picked me up after she was called in and asked if I was okay.  I told her that he hit me because I didn’t lend him my red crayon, and she said that I had to learn how to share my things with others.  After that lecture, she took me out to buy some ice cream, that always made me feel better.
     I threw that box of crayons away, and used my sixteen count box again.  I never knew that a simple thing like crayons could cause so much trouble.  Since that incident, I was known as Juanita, the girl who got punched in the nose; not Juanita, the girl with the cool crayons.