Raised By Wolves

"I stood between two persons who were conversing and touched their lips. I could not understand, and was vexed. I moved my lips and gesticulated frantically without result. This made me so angry at times that I kicked and screamed until I was exhausted."

"I think they have been raised by wolves," I tell Mallory. It's as though this moment is their first brush with civilization. They obviously have never said the words "please" or "thank you". Sort of like Helen Keller without the blindness.

Facing thirty-two of them from the front of the room after the bell rings, I watch them wiggle, snarl, grab pencils from their neighbor and loudly scream "shut up!" I must be careful when I explain the next assignment, I tell myself. They may think I am taking their food.

A few are limping, accidents of running and tackling. A girl who is a flyer has her hand wrapped and sits quietly like a bird with a broken wing. Cast out of the pack, some have cut themselves, mistaking it for licking.

They mentally pace, fidgit, blurt, dart, desire, hunt, agitate, gravitate, arouse. Laughter ripples across the room, paper crinkles, the pencil sharpener hums, and I see that what I am after is before me.

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all. Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature.”

(quotes by Helen Keller)