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Today was a good day. Why? Because today I got playdough. Yes, playdough. Where did I get this playdough? I got this playdough from the most wonderful playdough giver, a title that I had to invent for this occasion, Emily Reeder. Yes, the wonderful Emily Reeder handed out left over playdough from some Halloween party or such to everyone in our advisory. I took an orange playdough tub for myself and gave Monica a yellow one after tossing two pink ones to some people off to my right. Then, I gave Elaina a green one, but Elaina doesn’t like playdough because she’s weird like that, so she gave it to Monica. So now Monica had two tubs of playdough! Two! She had two when I only had one! And I got up and got them! I exerted energy for those tubs of playdough and there she was smashing and smooshing the playdoughs of two different kinds while I was stuck with my one, lonely tub of orange. Naturally this did not bode well with my playdough loving self, so I took it from her! I took the yellow playdough for myself, feeling I deserved it seeing as I got up and got the stupid thing. Well, she tried to not let me have it and I only got away with the yellow, having to abandon the green tub behind or suffer the consequences of an angry Monica – though I’m sure she was already angry. Triumphantly, a bell rang in my honor and Mrs. Pfenning (my advisor and teacher) forced the rest of the advisory (save a select few) out of the room to make way for a new set of students to sit in the sticky, wooden chairs. I was one of the lucky few that was allowed to remain in the room.
Moments in to this new “class,” Mrs. Pfenning did something I had not expected. She made me clear my desk of all things . . . including my playdough! The playdough that I had so valiantly fought for was now being taken from me from a much higher force. I heard someone at the right of me, on the other side of the room ask the most absurd question when Pfenning demanded the removal of my playdough from my desk; “who has playdough?” Who has playdough? Who has playdough? Who doesn’t have playdough! And why don’t they have playdough! That poor, deprived, playdoughless person, I thought, then realized: I was just told to put my playdough away! In only moments I was about to become playdoughless just like the already playdoughless soul! But what could I do? There was nothing. And so, I put my play dough away and then, was forced to partake in a most terrible form of torture, a Wordly Wise test. It was awful! All I could think about was that wonderfully squishy, soft, kinda smelly, orange goop that has been a joy of mine since I was a wee little child. The thought kept running through my head, over and over again until finally I finished the test and handed it in to Mrs. Pfenning.
There were moments of internal rejoicing as I walked to my desk feeling accomplished and overwhelmingly happy. I could now retrieve my well fought for playdough and squish it around in my hands. There was silence as the rest of my classmates continued with their tests. The silence enhanced the musical sound of squishing playdough oozing between my fingers. I closed my eyes and smiled, enjoying every second of the time I spent with that playdough. I was in a mindset of such extreme ecstasy that I couldn’t handle it. Then, a call. A familiar voice rang in my mind. I knew that voice. I knew I knew it.
“Five minutes,” the voice called and I realized who it was. Mrs. Pfenning was giving the remaining test takers the five minute warning she had promised us when the white papers had first hit our desks. Five minutes and the test would be over, sending the silence of the room out, banishing it away like Romeo. Mrs. Pfenning’s lecturing words would soon echo through the room, bouncing off the cold white walls of the large classroom. I was devastated. Only five more minutes of the blissful playdough squishing before I would be forced to pay attention. I sighed.
Words came from Mrs. Pfenning’s mouth as she stood up, though I don’t recall them. Then, suddenly, pictures moved across a once blue screen and I heard about the life of Mark Twain. Awe, Mark Twain. He’d always been one of my favorite people in history. I can’t really say that he’s my favorite author, for I don’t remember much of what I’ve read, but I have so many quotes of his that make me laugh, or tell my story. They’re my favorite quotes. I was quite happy to hear the old man’s voice coming from the television set. Hearing the words of Mark Twain’s journal being echoed by an old, comforting voice that reminds me of a grandfather or great uncle was so nice, but something made me frown. I had put my playdough away. This made me sad, so I once again retrieved the orange goop from its yellow container and started to play with it again.
Playdough rolling between my fingers and the sound of Mark Twain’s life story – and several of his tales – ringing through my ear made for a wonderful time. However, as intrigued as I was by the story being played on the screen, my mind started to wonder. It wondered about my orange playdough ball. I thought for a while about what I could possibly do with this small thing. I thought then back to Halloween of the past month. That night I had watched the Mindfreak – or Cris Angel, if you prefer – on television. The thought of the magician then took me to a movie I had seen in September, The Illusionist. That thought then took me to another movie that I’d recently seen about magic tricks, The Prestige. These magicians started swirling through my thoughts and I remembered that each of them could do tricks with rubber balls. The tricks were quite amazing and their steady hands made me want to try. What better to use than the playdough ball that was already running between my fingers? So I tried the trick. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, or even what the trick really was, but I was having fun with my attempts nonetheless. It was really quite amusing and didn’t take much brain effort or movement, which suits my personality well – and the playdough itself was amusing.
So there I was twirling that smooth, orange ball around between my fingers when, suddenly, I dropped it! I dropped it and it rolled away from me, under my chair and towards Jordan Sculley! I automatically searched around my feet and then hers for the beautiful little thing, but I didn’t see it! I was crushed. That ball had accompanied me through the whole morning. It had become a part of me by now, and what did I do? I lost it. I lost it! I just allowed for it to roll away from me, abandon me, leave me alone to an amusmentless torture! There were a few moments of silence in myself. I thought long and hard for several minutes before pulling out the small, yellow tub of the rest of the orange playdough. I rolled that into a ball and repeated what I had with the other one that was now lost to me. The bliss didn’t come, the feeling wasn’t the same. Something was missing from the new orange ball. It just wasn’t as easy, not as soft, not as . . . orange. I was so sad.
The rest of the movie past slowly. I just couldn’t see how anyone could enjoy anything again after such a terrible loss. I loved that playdough. I loved it so much that even when I took out the yellow playdough, which I had so bravely fought for, and played with it that even that wasn’t satisfying. I wanted that old, orange ball of goop back. I’d even come to name it . . . Jimbo. Yes, Jimbo. Jimbo the playdough. I missed him. Oh, Jimbo, how I missed you! I held my head low for those last minutes of class, only missing him. Missing Jimbo.
The depression had taken over so much of my mind that I hardly noticed when the darkness was suddenly gone. The lights went on in one quick moment and I was temporarily blinded. At the time I thought it was because I had suffered such a loss that I was suffering from post playdoughloss depression. It took me a few minutes to realize it was because my sad eyes were adjusting to the light . . . Wait. Light. Light! Light meant that I could once again see! I could navigate my way around the wooden floor of Mrs. Pfenning’s classroom! My eager, hopeful eyes frantically searched the floor around Jordan’s feet. That’s when it happened. I thought I spotted something orange, but I wasn’t sure. In a sudden upheaval of emotion, adrenaline, and hopefulness, I shoved the blue bag, oozing with books aside to discover the most wonderful thing I’d discovered all morning! My playdough! My little orange ball sat behind Jordan’s bag! Jimbo was there! I picked the comforting ball up carefully and cradled it in my shaky hand. I was so happy that I thought I might cry, and that is something I rarely do.
At 9:20 AM on November the 16th of the year 2006, I found a friend I’d thought I’d lost. I was so excited that I skipped out of the room and almost left Beth behind me. But don’t worry, she caught up.