Steven's Toys ( a short story);

The first bell rang registering the start of the school day; the hallway filled with sounds of laughing students. Mrs. Edwards taught grade six. She stood waiting at the classroom room door welcoming the students as they entered. The room was brightly decorated with posters about rounding, classroom rules, boundaries, and other motivational posters. The whiteboards were decorated with the alphabet letters in cursive. There were math problems on one and reading comprehension questions on the other.

A dark-haired boy pushed past Mrs. Edward as she was greeting the students. He did not acknowledge her. He walked right to his desk and sat down. She knew his name was Steven and he was new to the school. She had yet to get to know him. As a teacher, she made it her mission to connect with every student in her class. Some students were more challenging than others.

She watched Steven, walk over to his desk, lift a brown leather duffel bag onto the desktop and open it. He took out a red car, and a blue tow truck and put them in the corner of his desk. The duffel bag disappeared underneath his chair. As she welcomed the rest of her class, she watched Steven. He quietly pushed the truck around his desk, hooked the car to the back of the truck and made a varoom sound as the tow truck drove away.

Once the students were in their seats, they were ready to begin. Mrs. Edwards walked over to Steven and said, “Okay Steven, it's time to put the toys away and take out your math book. Steven did not look at Mrs. Edwards or acknowledge she spoke to him. He continued playing with his cars. Mrs. Edwards knew she had to begin teaching the morning’s lesson. Steven continued to play. Without interrupting her thought, she walked over to Steven’s desk and took both toys. She carried them over and put them on her desk.

When she returned to the front of the class, she looked at Steven. There were two identical cars to the ones she took from him, sitting on his desk. She decided to leave it alone to see how it played out. If he were interrupting the class, the cars would be gone. The cars stayed on his desk for the rest of the day after the students left she noticed the cars were gone.

The next morning Mrs. Edwards welcomed the class into the room. Steven passed by without a word. The cars were back with a purple trailer. He played with the cars until it was time for class to start and then lined them up along the top edge of his desk. He took out his workbook and started writing what was on the board.

The following day, Steven walked into the classroom and stopped beside Mrs. Edwards. She looked down at him and smiled. “Good morning, Steven.” She spoke. Steven looked at her without a word and continued to his desk. The red car, the blue tow truck and the purple trailer were there again; he added a white cube van with flowers to the group. Just like the day before, Steven played with the cars until class started and then he lined the cars up on the edge of the desk and went straight to work.

This ritual went the same way every day for the next weeks. Each day a new toy was added to the growing lineup of cars on his desk. Finally, Mrs. Edwards decided to send a letter home to Steven’s parents.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Eliott.

My name is Mrs. Edwards. I am your son Steven’s teacher. He is a quiet boy and always does his classwork. I have noticed he brings a duffel bag full of toys. Please arrange a meeting to discuss this further.

Kind Regards

Mrs. Edwards.

The next day there was a note in her box in the staff room, it read: “Mr. Eliott- (Steven) an appointment at three o’clock, today.” She put the message in her pocket and headed to her classroom.

When Steven entered the room, she could have sworn that she heard him say “Good morning”. She expected more cars to be added to his desk instead he put the red car, the blue tow truck, the purple trailer, and the flower truck on his desk and put the duffel bag under his seat. He started to work right away.

That afternoon, Mrs. Edwards was grading assignments when there was a knock at the door; a man approximately five feet five inches with horn-rimmed glasses stood in the doorway. “Excuse me Mrs. Edwards?” he said.

“Yes,” she smiled. Steven looked just like his father. “Mr. Eliott please come in.”

“Thank you” he sat down in the chair he was offered.

“Mr. Eliott, I hoped to meet with you and your wife.” She began.

“Of course, Mrs. Edwards, unfortunately, my wife passed away last year from cancer, so it is just Stevie and myself.”

She felt an enormous pang of guilt in her chest. “I am very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. We lived up north when Maria was diagnosed. We moved here to begin treatment. We moved in with my parents after she passed. I am raising Steven alone but my parents and in-laws help the best they can.”

Mrs. Edwards felt awful. Her heart broke for Steven and Mr. Eliott. No wonder Steven was reacting this way.

“Since my wife passed, Steven hasn’t spoken – he has closed himself off and I don’t know how to reach him.” Mr. Eliott took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose. ‘The doctors say it is selective mutism and he will speak when he is ready to. I am sure you have noticed his cars.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Edwards agreed with a nod. “Some days there are as many as twenty cars on his desk, but lately he only brings out four; the red car, blue tow truck, purple trailer, and white flower truck.”

“Yes, those are his prize possessions. Marie, my wife gave them to him. She always took Steven shopping, and they would pick out special toys together. Those were the last four cars she bought him. He plays with them when he is anxious otherwise, they stay lined up on the floor beside his bed. He brings them everywhere with him in his…”

“Duffel bag.” Mrs. Edwards said finishing his sentence.

“Yes, that was my wife’s bag.”

“At the start of class, Steven lines up his cars one at a time adding another car.

Mr. Eliott nodded in agreement. “He’s testing you to see if he can trust you.”

“On the first day of class, I took two cars away from him and immediately took out two more.” Mrs. Edwards handed him the Ziploc bag with the two cars in it. “I decided to let Steven keep the cars on his desk to see how it played out. He plays with them for about five minutes before class, looks around to see what the class is doing and starts working. Lately, there have only been the four key cars.”

Mr. Eliot smiled and nodded. “That means he is comfortable with you.”

The meeting with Mr. Eliott was successful. It was decided to continue to let Steven bring the toys to school. Over time, he became comfortable with Mrs. Edwards and the class.

One day, he started to speak again. The class was working on independent writing when Mrs. Edwards walked around the classroom to check their progress. She passed by Steven’s desk. His hand shot up in the air.

“Mrs. Edwards,” he whispered. She stopped and knelt beside his desk.

“Yes Steven,” she smiled.

“I want you to read this.” He spoke. “It is about my mother.” He handed her a notebook that was filled with pages of writing.

“Thank you, Steven, I will read it.” She said and walked over to her desk. She opened the notebook and noticed how neat his handwriting was.

“Dear Mrs. Edwards; he wrote. “You might not think I hear you, but I do. I bring my cars to school because they remind me of my mother. The red car reminds me that I am angry with God for taking her away too young. She was only forty-three. The blue tow truck reminds me of her blue-grey eyes. The purple trailer is her favourite colour, and the white flower truck has her favourite flowers.

My Dad is sad, he cries every day. I don’t say anything because all I want to do is scream and curse God. I need to deal with my mom’s loss in my way. Thank you, Mrs. Edwards, for understanding and letting me figure things out. My mom would let me figure things out just like you.”

Steven.

Mrs. Edwards closed the book and looked at Steven, he was watching her intently. She smiled as tears threatened to brim the edge of her eyes. “Thank you” he mouthed and smiled.

From then on Steven Eliott was no longer mute. He was a contributing member of the class. Mrs. Edwards retired not long after having Steven in her class. She always remembered Steven fondly as one of her favourite students. Steven is now a writer with a family of his own. He dedicates his writing to the three most important women in his life – his mother, sixth-grade teacher, and wife.

-The End-.

DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright ©2024 by Allison Flatwater, all rights reserved.