Alanna and A Dragon on the Wall
Alanna is Kyle's mother. A Dragon on the Wall shifts voice among Alanna, her husband Frank, Kyle and her daughter, Maggie.
Alanna walks to school, stopping to exchange a few words with the crossing guard, an imposing Sikh who wears a smart dress shirt and grey trousers under his orange and yellow crossing guard vest. Gomesh Singh’s youngest grandchild graduated from the school two years ago, but he continues as guard, his sharp blasts on the whistle enough to stop even the most aggressive drivers from rolling through the stop sign. He asks after Maggie.
“She’s graduating soon. We’ve spent long hours talking about what high school she’ll go to,” says Alanna.
“Yes, I remember that with our boys. We are very happy with our decision for Roger – he’s really turning out to have aptitude for mathematics.”
“Yes, he was good at math even when I taught him. Some children just shine in everything they do.”
“And Miss Maggie will too, I’ve no doubt,” says Gomesh and steps out and blows his whistle. One of the little girls takes his hand as the children cross.
“Ah, Marion. Where is your brother today,” he says. Gomesh knows every child’s name and, in most cases, who they should be arriving and leaving with.
"He ran ahead.”
“Well straight to the playground now then, where I can see you,” says Gomesh and stands watching until she is through the gate. He is a particular favourite with shy girls, who trust his stiff formality. Alanna, heading for the school door, smiles, thinking of Gomesh; of whatever benevolent power made him uproot himself from India to live here with his grandchildren and take the role of crossing guard as such a sacred responsibility.
It is the kind of day that reminds her why she wanted to be a teacher. The children are easily settled into their seats with a song. David, her brightest and most imaginative boy, presents the story he’s created to go with his paper mache mask. It’s a dragon, boldly painted in greens and yellows, and David mounts it on his arm to re-enact its fearsome roaring.
“’Why are you so fierce and cross,” asks the hero, the mighty Clive, in David’s voice.
“Because my foot hurts,” the dragon replies in a rough throaty voice.
‘Let me see,’ Clive says. ‘You need surgery. I can do it.’” And the story goes on with a successful operation and a happy ending for the wounded dragon. David’s father is a neurosurgeon. And David is the kind of treasure who enriches a classroom with his enthusiasm. If you have a David in the room there are days like this in which the sun shines and the dragon is healed as good as new.
If only she could recapture some of that spirit of adventure in Kyle. He had it once, as a boy -- drawing animals dreamily on a sketch pad, engaged in his own private world. She misses that little boy, with his tuft of dark hair sticking straight up, his thin body bony on her lap. He's been buried inside an unhappy adolescent. Alanna no longer understands what is happening in his head. He shuts her out too firmly. Maggie is easier to fathom, because Alanna remembers what it was like to be a young girl. Each night when she prays. she asks God to watch over them both.
