Personal Narrative: Follow The Leader

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When I was in the first grade, I was considered a goody two-shoes because I followed all the rules and got good grades, but I never really believed that I deserved the nickname until one day on the playground. My friends and I decided to play Follow the Leader. As we continued to play the game, we started to sing all of the songs we had learned in class. I began to wonder, are we allowed to sing outside during recess?
I thought about this question so long that I decided to go tell on myself to the teacher. I mentioned the plan to my friend, Hannah, and she just looked at me and laughed. “You are going to go tell on yourself? Why? We weren’t doing anything wrong, and why would you want to get yourself in trouble?”
Some of the other kids overheard our conversation and let’s just say that I never heard the end of it (even in high school). I learned a great deal that day about the difference between tattling and telling. Tattling on someone usually has the intention of getting them into trouble, but telling has the purpose of preventing trouble before it happens. By telling adults important information that they may need to know, it is possible to prevent problems before they occur. Sadly, most children do not realize this difference, including myself as a child. That day on the playground, however, was a defining moment in my childhood. It was then that I promised myself that I would never be a tattletale. I would only be a teller—an individual who tells on someone only if that person is hurting others. Years later, tattling became one of my biggest pet peeves as a child care teacher. I was 18 and newly graduated from high school when I got a job as an assistant child care teacher at an early learning center in Kansas. The first two weeks were easy, as I was usually assigned to an infant classroom, an area in which I felt most comfortable. As the weeks went on, they needed more help in the classrooms with the older children, especially preschool and kindergarten. On my first day in the
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It was a complete turnaround from the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of rocking babies. The kindergartners were loud—extremely loud. I could barely hear myself think over the thirty energetic youngsters. On top of the constant noise, there was always someone saying, “Teacher, Sam won’t share his ball!”
“Miss Sara, Josh keeps calling me names!”
I came home every day with a headache, but I had to keep working in the kindergarten room because that was where I was needed.
One hot summer day, the entire class was getting ready to go outside to play. Before we could leave, everyone was required to be quiet and say a prayer along with me. I asked them to close their eyes, bow their heads, and repeat the prayer after me. Usually after this was done, we would quietly walk in a single file line down the hallway to the playground. That day, however, it was different. When I opened my eyes, instead of an orderly line of kindergartners, there was one little boy chaotically jumping up and down. As red in the face as a tomato, he seemed to be getting antsier by the second.
“Teacher! Teacher!”
My frustration at this point was a pan of hot water ready to bubble over. However, I patiently listened to what he had to say.
“Julia’s eyes were open during

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