Alicia Bjorling Hated School

Alicia Bjorling hated school. Mondays were terrible, because all the popular girls talked about their week-end dates, and what movies they went to, and compared I-pod play lists. She always felt so left out.

Tuesdays was math quiz day. Ugh! Alicia pretended to be sick whenever she could, but her Mom was beginning to catch on.

Wednesdays were awful because that was double PE. Track wasn’t so bad, but now Ms. Spritly decided to turn all the girls of Franklin High School into gymnasts. With her long legs and short waist Alicia flopped around hopelessly on the mat like a rag doll. Why couldn’t they have something really interesting like fencing, or archery?

Thursdays should never exist, because of double English. Alicia had to sit right behind Brent Weber. He was pretty cute alright, but it was disgusting how the popular clique, Sarah Dinkel, Jasmine Hedges, and Sonora Williams to name a few, would constantly pass notes. It was rude to Mr. Grix, who really had some good points about Jane Austin. Brent may not know much about Reformation literature, but he always had a date on the week-end, and it was never Alicia.

Friday was disgusting because “the girls” talked constantly about their week-end plans. Sleep-overs, movies, dates with guys, speech tournaments, trips with the ski team, model U.N. meetings. It was all so tedious. Why couldn’t people just stay home and not bother themselves too much? Alicia’s perfect Saturday involved both parents gone, unlimited internet access, and a microwave pizza in the freezer.

One dreary Monday, after barely surviving a tirade of hyper giggling classmates, Alicia came home and said, “Mom, can I use the computer?”

“Yes, of course dear. Just don’t buy anything on line.” Her Mom was busy in the kitchen. Alicia logged onto aliciab@fishnet.com and checked her world war craft character. After playing a round of speed chess she followed a link from fantasia.com to a site to build your own Renaissance lute. Suddenly the monitor went blank. Gentle harp music filled the room as a lovely woman’s face pixilated onto the screen.

“Who are you?” Alicia was not happy about being interrupted in her surfing.

“I’m your harp fairy.” Replied a musical voice from the speakers.

“My what?”

“You heard me, Alicia Bjorling. I’m here to teach you to play beautiful music.”

“But I’m not musical, and I don’t have a harp. How can I learn anything?”

“No problem. Just follow my instructions. Now, let’s begin.”

“What if I don’t want to? What if I get bored? Am I graded on this?”

“Of course there are no grades,” came the laughing reply, “And you are welcome to log off when ever you wish.”

“Alright then,” Alicia was still dubious, but hanging out with a computer harp fairy sure beat figuring out quadratic equations. “What do I do first?”

“The first lesson has to do with proper breathing; in and out, slow and steady. Learn to control your breath.” Hypnotic music hovered just above awareness. Alicia became transfixed with the melody and her own breathing. It was as if her own breath were controlling the melody, swelling, and relaxing to shape the hypnotic rhythm.

“Alicia, Honey,” Her Mom’s voice jolted Alicia back into reality. “It’s dinner time. You’ve been in there two hours. I hope you’ve finished your algebra questions. Remember the quiz is tomorrow.” How could she forget? The time with the harp fairy seemed like only two minutes, and she still had all this homework.

The next day, in Algebra class, Alicia stared blankly at the quiz in front of her. The numbers didn’t make any sense. They may as well have been hieroglyphics, and all those funny looking symbols. All she could think about was the mysterious harp fairy. Gradually she began to breathe in and out in a rhythmic fashion. Suddenly a curtain seemed to lift from the page, and all at once she could understand the equations. How could she have ever been intimidated by simultaneous equations? It was all so logical.

Alicia hurried home that afternoon. She logged onto harpfairy.com.

“What’s the next lesson?” She eagerly asked the cheerful face on the screen.

Today we will work on correct posture. In order to be a harpist you must sit up straight. You can practice this by balancing a book on your head as you sit.”

“That’s easy.” Alicia grabbed Modern Algebra Made Easy and placed it on her head.

“Very good. Now practice moving your arms in circles, going opposite directions.” The book thudded to the floor.

“That’s too hard. How can I ever learn to do that?”

“Remember your lesson from yesterday? Just remember to breathe with the music.”

Once again soothing music filled the room and Alicia found herself focusing on her spine, her arms, her neck, her hips, her feet and her breathing all at once. Alicia felt as if her arm movements were controlling the ebb and flow of the music. When she did large movements the music got loud. With small arm circles the music diminished in strength.

“Dinner time, Honey.” Her Mom’s voice broke Alicia’s concentration and Modern Algebra Made Easy thudded to the floor. Oh dear, Alicia once again had spent two hours with the harp fairy.

Wednesday. Double PE! What a drag. “Let’s work on the balance beam.” Announced Ms. Spritly.

“Yeah, work on chopping it up,” Alicia muttered under her breath. But miraculously, as she climbed up onto the dreadful thing she found it quite exhilarating. All she could think of was the lovely harp music from the night before. She began circling her arms in opposite directions as she walked straight across without faltering. Her class mates were jealous, and Ms. Spritly immediately signed her up for the gymnastics team.

Alicia could hardly wait to get home to the computer again. She waited impatiently as harpfairy.com materialized. The familiar gently voice spoke. “Today we will work on the hand motions.” Alicia watched closely as the harp fairy’s graceful hands opened and closed in thin air. As she did, the harp music swelled and washed over Alicia. She followed the movements with her own hands, noticing the flexibility and suppleness in her wrists and elbows. Her fingers moved as if they were made of reeds dancing in the wind. Soon the music conformed to her own motions, and she shaped each note and phrase as if she were actually plucking strings. Once again the call for dinner came too soon.

The next day in English Brent Weber was giving a talk on how Pride and Prejudice has influenced modern English authors. Alicia was intrigued, but noticed how the popular girls simpered and passed notes, just as they always did. They ignored Brent’s fine speech. “Any questions?” Brent’s deep baritone voice resonated in the class room.

Sarah Dinkel raised her hand, batted her eyelashes, and cooed, “Oh, Mr. Weber, could you just clarify one little detail? Wouldn’t you say that coming from a man’s perspective, that your opinions are slightly biased?” She smiled blandly as Jasmine kicker her under the table, and Sonora hissed, “Don’t blow it like that, you dummy.” Brent turned bright red, and stammered, fumbling with his notes. The bell rang, and the giggling girls whirled on to their lunch break.

“Sorry about those silly girls,” Alicia had to say something to Brent. “It really was a first rate presentation.”

“Those three,” grumbled Brent. “They’re always after me. Hey, what are you doing?”

Horrified, Alicia looked down at her hands which were gently opening and closing like the motion of sea weed swaying in the waves. Now it was Alicia’s turn to be embarrassed.