Hunky Chunk the Pink Elephant

I needed a short story to model to my students. I wrote this to show them how to grab the reader's attention with the use of dialogue. I liked the story so much I think I will add to it whenever I need to show them an example of a style of writing.

Andree's Illustrations

Hunky Chunk the Pink Elephant

Chapter One: The Fatal Bus Ride

I have a pink elephant named, Hunky Chunk. He goes with me everywhere. He sits with me at breakfast and eats apple slices. He drinks warm tea by dipping his long snout into the saucer. Hunky also comes to school with me, hopping on the bus and buckling his seatbelt. We sat together and admired the scenery when one day, a boy began to bother us.

“Why are you bringing that stupid doll to school?” Joey asked me.

“He’s not stupid!” I protested. “He’s my friend.”

“Hey everyone, look! Mary has a stuffed animal!” All the kids turned their head to see the spectacle. Hunky Chunk and I sat in our seat with our arms crossed; no one was going to bully us!

“Hey guys let’s play keep away,” said Joey, snatching up my pink stuffed animal. I could see the fear in Hunky’s glass eyes. He went sailing from one side of the bus to the other as the mean boys were throwing him left and right.

“Give him back to me!” I wailed. “He has very sensitive limbs,” I pleaded. I could see Hunky’s floppy limps flailing like birds wings.

“Oh, did you hear that everyone? Her dolly has sensitive limbs,” Joey repeated mockingly.

“I mean it!” I yelled again.

I ran from one end of the bus to the other, trying desperately to catch my poor Hunky Chunk. He was so scared. Hunky was very old and couldn’t withstand too many acrobatics.

After a few minutes of playing monkey in the middle, Joey began to get tired.

“Ok, guys, let’s give Mary her doll back,” he finally said. He whispered something in one of the boy’s ears and began wrestling him for the elephant.

“Don’t worry Mary, I’ll give him back to you, I promise,” Joey yelled in between labored breaths.

“Oh, please! You’re going to rip him!” I was almost crying at this point.

I heard a rip, then a click.

Everything fell silent.

“Hunky?” I called, my voice a mere whisper.

“Um, here you go. I promised I’d give him back.” Joey handed me the remains of my beloved animal. What was left was a ripped arm and a missing eyeball. That must have been the click sound.

The bus stopped and everyone ran off and marched into school, everybody besides Hunky Chunk and I.

“Look what they did to you Hunky Chunk,” I cried.

“Cough, cough, it’s getting dark,” Hunky said with a frail voice.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Pain? Pain is the crutch of the weak,” Hunky said bravely.

“You are so strong Hunky. Is their anything I can do for you?”

“Cough, cough, find my eyeball, then we will get vengeance.”

“Vengeance? What do you mean Hunky Chunk? You have a crazy look in your eye,” I was beginning to feel scared of Hunky Chunk. He wasn’t himself right now.

“That’s right, vengeance. I know people. Stuffed animal people. Just so happens that Joey’s leopard Jasper lives down the street. We’re going to kidnap him.”

I listened to Hunky’s plan while I fixed his eye and readjusted his torn arm. Hunky changed on the bus that day, I could see that. We began to devise a plan to get back at Joey while we walked inside for school.

The iPhone Thief

That Monday I told all the students that I "lost my iPhone" and that if anyone finds it, there is a reward. I implied a money reward by rubbing my fingers together but I had no intention of paying them.

After an entire day, no one turned in the phone. I was packing up to leave when a student came up to me...

"Miss Hajjar?"

"Yes, Mike?" I asked.

"Some people were talking during lunch and they said Jimmy stole your phone."

"Thank you, Mike." He seemed like he wanted to say more or now that I think about it, he might have been waiting for the reward. Mike, being a reliable source, gave me the confidence to immediately addressed the class the next day with a different prerogative.

"Okay everyone, being that I don't have my phone yet, we are going to do this. I am going to give you each a white envelope. Everyone has to put something in this envelope. It can be paper, cardboard, a note, whatever. The one condition is, the person who has the phone needs to put the phone in the envelope. Get it?" After about five more explanations they understood, although some began filling it in class. "No, no, no, this must be done at home and returned to me as your entrance slip. Understand?" I got some weary nods and we went back to our work.

Later that day, I approached Jimmy. I told him he MUST bring the iPhone in the next day.

The next morning when he didn't show up, my cooperating teacher, who is awesome, called his father, explained the whole situation and Jimmy was forced to bring it in after lunch. That is the story of the iPhone thief. I'm glad to have my phone back. I really learned a lesson with this situation and it's to not set students up for disaster. I should have never had the phone exposed in the fist place.

Another lesson I learned is to change my facebook name. One of my students sent me a friend request, which I immediately rejected. However, I wasn't completely unscathed by this encounter. I was forced to see the photo under his name, which had this particular student, lets call him Olly, with his shirt off, looking into the camera seductively. I will never look at him the same and I can not undo the damage that appalling picture did to me.

(The students names have been changed for privacy)

The iPhone Thief

My iPhone was stolen during class one afternoon. I know it was stolen during class because I had just used it before the class started and I put it in my briefcase. Unfortunately, my briefcase was open, exposing the shiny new iPhone.

You don't know the turmoil one goes though when they loose a devise they are so accustomed to having on their side. It feels like an appendage someone just lost; they keep reaching to itch it, but its not there.

I kept reaching for my iPhone, but every time I found a vast emptiness in the spot where it used to be, safely tucked in my purse. I went though the stages of grief.

Denial: I searched far and wide for my phone. I looked in every crevice in that classroom. Then I looked in the bathroom stall , the office mailbox, the teachers lounge fridge and everywhere else I went that day. I thought, for a brief moment, that it couldn't have been stolen, not by my students.

Anger: The janitor happened to walk in at this point. I realized it was stolen after all my tracks had been retraced. I feel bad for the guy, because after I shouted at him that my phone was stolen, I skipped bargaining and went straight to depression.

Depression: I couldn't make it to the Principals office because my eyes were filled with soggy tears. I went to the phone store and began the last stage of grief.

Acceptance: I told the helpful people at AT&T that it had been stolen. They made me laugh and asked me questions about teaching, which made me feel better. I ended up turning on my old blackberry.

The key to rescuing my iPhone was that I had all weekend to think about how I was going to handle it when I went back to school. I have to admit, anyone else would have handled it wrong. I was the perfect person to have my phone stolen. To be continued...