David the Light of the Beanstalk

By Grace Chin

All his childhood and teenage life, David has been affected by his skin pigmentation, and he would do anything to gain the attention of others, so much so that it leads him to make decisions that go against his faith. But his faith is restored by strangers who come into his life, which awakens the light that was dimmed, to break through the light of his beanstalk.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685171001

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David the Light of the Beanstalk

Grace Chin

ISBN 978-1-68517-099-8 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68517-100-1 (digital)

Copyright © 2021 by Grace Chin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

I have lived a life of a seventeen-year-old that no one should live. My name is David Spellbound. Like the shepherd, David, in the Bible who watches over the sheep, he was recognized as the son that was not to be noticed or to be valued. He was the keeper of the sheep. He did everything that he was told.

I thought as David thought to be unrecognizable to live the shepherd life. But I rebelled against this thought as a child and created an identity that would make me stand out to be relevant.

As I walk these halls of Mandarine High, I see that life is just one big atomic sphere that we live to be part of, one with the universe. If I could relive my childhood, I would have done it differently. To be accepted is to know that you are accepted in the sight of God. The advice that came my way were ones that were good, but at the time, they did not seem good.

I am like this newborn baby squirrel that has lost his way and battling for survival, looking up at the strange things around me and crying out for help, but only being looked at as different and being picked up and thrown away as trash. Everyone is having fun and looking at me with wonderment, only to be thought once again as trash and hearing the voices laughing and saying, He is different. While he is running away, he is trapped.

As I look back now at the events of my life, it gives me shivers—shivers because it all started in Edison Elementary School for the Gifted in Connecticut.

It was the beginning of fall, and the trees were shedding their leaves. The school was ancient. I say this because it was built in 1930s, and the last update it had was in the 1960s, and it still needed some update. The windows swung outside, in a very weird broken way. Everything to the left of the library was kept the same. Just old and boarded. I did not like school much, did not have much friends. I kept this all to myself. In our four-bedroom, three-bathroom, two-floor home, I was upstairs plotting my next move at school. This is where my story began in the fall of 2018.

I remember my twin brothers, Murphy and Morris, shouting from downstairs as they sat in their high chair looking up at the light and saying, Light, light, shade, and smiling, not knowing what it meant. My beanstalk is that of a light, calling, but my incoherent split demeanor set me on the other path of ruin. I am no longer running incoherently in the halls of Mandarine High School but walking in the knowledge that life exists and that makes us bound to the Almighty and that my life is relieved from my burden through Jesus. I must say, the teachers are far more accepting of things here at this school, and that makes one wonder if there is good to be had.

Even though there is good and evil that we must account for, in every aspect of our lives, we all go back to the calling to be one with God. That our genuine self comes through not as Cain but as Abel when we are offering up our sacrifice to him who is perfect and all-knowing, a good and everlasting God.

I struggle with many things that as a child, through puberty and my teenage years, brought me to this point. The beanstalk is my walk to redemption, whatever that is, as I think back on the book of Psalm 25:

To you, O, Lord, I lift up my soul, O my God, I trust in you; Let me not be ashamed, let not my enemies trump over me. Indeed, let no one who waits on you be ashamed.

At times, these words drive me to do things I am not to do looking back, but my stronghold comes from rejoicing in knowing Psalm 28:

To you I will cry, O Lord, my rock.

My beanstalk taught me the climb is greater than the fall. My climb does not leave me worn or tittered by life’s obstacles but embracing what lies ahead. My thoughts once again went back to Edison Elementary School for the Gifted where I achieved the quickest maneuver to divert anyone seeing my action during lunch period. Everything about that day comes back to me so clear as if it just happened.

It was cloudy and silent; something was in the air that seemed unspoken, yet it beckoned me to do the unthinkable. As I listened to Nicholas bellowing, that shook me to the core. I regretted getting him involved with me and Jaden’s problems. When we first moved into the neighborhood, my parents and I were greeted by Jaden’s family. I was not fond of him. I remember him poking me with his fingers because of the spots on my face, and I did not like him for that.

Stop crying, Nicholas. If you don’t stop crying, I am going to do something bad.

What did you do with my lunch, David?

I thought about Vera, and why she had to get Mrs. Garcia involved; she was my only friend, and still was, but I wondered about her getting involved.

Yes, Vera.

Nicholas is crying.

Nicholas, why are you crying? Vera had to get involved.

I liked Vera out of all the students in the class. I liked talking with her, and I usually didn’t befriend other students easily. I had to think quickly to distract what happened from me.

I shouted out, Jaden took Nicholas’s lunch!

No, I did not. David, you are always blaming me for things I did not do.

Nicholas.

Yes, Mrs. Garcia.

Is this the truth?

I stared at Nicholas, giving him the look that if he ever called me out, he was going to get it, but he did not.

Jaden, is that your sandwich?

No, Mrs. Garcia.

Mrs. Garcia wanted to get to the bottom of this problem; she told Jaden to apologize for taking Nicholas’s lunch that was hidden in his lunchbox.

Mrs. Garcia went on and on that Jaden and I were to have five minutes off from recess and that Mrs. Fraser, our teacher, was going to hear about all that happened at lunch today. She wanted to know if either of us wanted to apologize to Nicholas, but I felt it was a trap and looked at Jaden, not to say anything, and he did not. I whispered something into Jaden’s ear.

Shut up, David, you are horrible.

We had to line up to go to recess, and Nicholas wanted to say something, but Mrs. Garcia told him he had his chance and that he should bring it up to his second-grade teacher, Mrs. Fraser. She told him to stop crying.

But…but…I—I…

If you had only loaned me your car, Jaden, you would not have gotten into trouble, and poor innocent Nicholas has to suffer for your mistake. I asked you please, and you still said no.

David, I said no because we were working in class, and we would have gotten in trouble with Mrs. Fraser.

I don’t care, when I said I want to play with your car, you should have loaned it to me.

You are not the boss of me, and you are not going to get away with this, David.

You will get in trouble one day, someone will get you, someday, someday.

You have no friends because you make problems for everyone. Horrible, horrible!

Stop screaming, and take that back, Jaden.

David, Jaden, are you two still arguing again?

Class, line up, recess is over.

Jaden, you see, you almost got us in trouble again with Mrs. Garcia.

Please, David, shut your mouth for once.

The weather was not helping recess much. I was wondering why we were called to go in fifteen minutes early. The entire class wanted to stay out and play, but the weather was damp, dreary, and cold. Once we reached in the classroom, we were told to have our seats and to take our books out and read. I saw Mrs. Fraser and Mrs. Garcia talking. I went over to both Nicholas and Jaden and said if they put the blame on me, they would not like it.

Jaden, Nicholas, and David, to my desk.

Thanks, Mrs. Garcia, I will handle it from here, they know the rules of the school. Sharing of lunch is not prohibited.

Class continued reading. We were standing at her desk, and she wanted to know who wanted to start explaining. Nicholas, as usual, started to sniffle and shake. Mrs. Fraser saw no one was talking, so she started about the rules of the school, the sharing of lunch, and the reason why the school had these rules.

She went on to explain, "Food allergies are very serious, you can get sick, and mostly sharing of lunch can be stress for other children, for this reason no taking or sharing of lunch. If we did not understand, I was sure we got it now.

I was getting tired of standing. I had to say, Mrs. Fraser, that is how we play at lunch, and no one did anything to anyone.

Mrs. Fraser looked at me. She knew my demeanor very well; she turned to the three of us again. She was not letting us get off so easily. She wanted to know why Jaden and I were screaming at each other. Then Nicholas could not hold it in anymore; he had to do it.

It was David.

Mrs. Fraser was upset that she had to go through this when she already knew what Mrs. Garcia had told her. Nicholas had his chance but said nothing. Mrs. Fraser wanted to know why she should believe what he said now.

Why do you believe I should take your words over David, Nicholas?

I don’t, Mrs. Fraser.

We were told to take our seats, and she told us he would continue this later and that we were not getting off so easily. I could not understand why she had the sniffles a lot, and she was always taking some pills of some sort—just weird. For a young teacher, she did not dress very fashionable; she was always covered up, very simple. Her brunette hair was always in bun. Sometimes she had a pencil holding her hair or a huge hair clip. Mrs. Fraser got the class involved with the rules about food-sharing.

Class, what do we say about sharing lunch with a classmate or taking someone else’s?

The class started to recite everything Mrs. Fraser said to the three of us. And then she added that these rules were rules, set in place by the school district, and all the schools in Colton Meadows had to abide by these rules. Edison Elementary School for the Gifted and was not exempted from these rules.

Remember, class, the school is looking out for the safety of each student.

Mrs. Fraser.

Yes, Melanie.

Could you tell David to stop pulling my hair?

David!

I am not doing anything, she is making funny faces at me.

Mrs. Fraser’s face was getting red; she was tired of how I was reacting to other students, especially while talking about school rules. The entire class was told to sit quietly until we could learn to behave ourselves. Mrs. Fraser emphasized the need to be respectful, that we must be kind to each other.

David, do you agree?

I think so.

I wanted to be on my best behavior since Melanie called me out about pulling her hair. I thought to myself in order to change my plans around, I had to get my teacher to see that I was the innocent one and that I had nothing to do with what happened earlier today.

Well, we all can learn from you, David.

Stop looking at me, David.

You best be scared, Jaden. You are the reason I am getting into trouble.

I turned away from Jaden and looked through the old windows of the school; outside was dreary and cloudy as ever. Fall was not going to be the best weather. I was hating it already. I felt uneasy and misplaced; I felt this day was never going to end. Nothing made me feel a part of anything or anyone. I found himself being the victim of two classmates—one I did not like, one I didn’t think much of—all because of a car toy.

Close to the seventh period, we were told to take out their drawing books; we were going to make happy pictures for Serd who was homesick with the chicken pox. These picture cards were to be made into a card mosaic for Serd’s mom, Mrs. Songhi, who was coming to school to pick up things he left behind at the nurse’s office, his coat, and lunch box. The students were instructed to draw or write something that would make Serd happy or they should think about something that would make them happy to pass on to Serd.

I am not looking at you, Jaden, I was listening to the teacher.

I don’t believe you, David.

Leave him alone, David. I am going to tell Mrs. Fraser if you two don’t stop.

I told Vera that Jaden and I were just talking. But Jaden had to say his response in a slightly loud voice.

David, please, why do you say things that are not true?

I think you need to stop now, Vera said. Mrs. Fraser is coming around to our desk.

Nicholas, that is a nice drawing with Serd family.

Vera, what do you have on your sheet of paper?

I am drawing a tree, and the tree is going to make Serd well. The tree has all sorts of vitamins, with gummy bears and sweets.

Okay, Vera, that sounds like things you like.

Yes, I think if I share my most favorite things, Serd will get well.

Well, that is a nice thought, Vera. Jaden, I see that you are drawing a ball.

Serd and I would play ball together, see, that is me in the picture playing with him.

That is very nice, Jaden, okay, let’s all finish up so we can have this for Serd’s mom when she comes to pick up his coat that he left in the nurse’s office.

David.

Yes, Mrs. Fraser.

That picture is very unusual for a get-well card, why would you draw a picture with lepers?

Didn’t Jesus heal the lepers? That is a story in the Bible.

Yes, he did, but your picture does not show that. It is more gruesome, not a very happy picture. We are trying to let Serd know that we are thinking of him and that we hope to see him well enough to return to school, not to let him feel sad, and unhappy.

Mrs. Fraser, not to worry. When I am done, you are going to like the card.

"Okay, class, do your final work on the card and bring it up. I think I have given you enough time, twenty-five minutes to be exact, let’s pass up our work now. The class brought up their drawings and went back to their seats quietly. Each card was signed, and Mrs. Fraser saw David’s card was missing and was asked to turn his card in.

"David, may I have a word?

David, you did not change the drawing that you made for Serd. Instead, you wrote: ‘Dear Serd, hope to see you, spot and all. You will be famous, spot and all. You got sick because of who you are. Your friend, David.’

Mrs. Fraser was not pleased with my work, and for that, my work was not allowed to be on the card mosaic with the rest of the class. It was time to go home. Who does she think she is not including my card with the rest of the class? She is not going to like what she is doing. My drawings and poem are better than the rest of the class. I wanted this dreary day to end; if it did not, I knew I was going to do something I didn’t want to do. I heard the words coming out of my teacher’s mouth, but it seemed to heighten the situation. I felt void of any feelings. Just rage.

David, what are you doing at my desk?

Nothing.

Okay. Clean your area and get in line.

Then we heard over the loudspeaker that we were to follow the fire drill procedure. The class was panicking now; things were getting very serious now when Mrs. Fraser told us that this was the fire drill and we needed to move, fast. If we didn’t have any of our books or bags, leave them; we would be able to retrieve them later once we were told to do so.

In line, everyone, and hold hands, so no one gets lost through the corridor.

We were led to the nearest exit, away from the smoke which was the side door of the building, told not to look back, and to go directly through the gate and stay on the sidewalk. We were led away from school until we were radioed with the code to return.

James, no crying. We will be okay, said Mrs. Fraser.

I was fascinated with it all, not thinking of the danger or Mrs. Fraser repeating herself what to do and what not to do. I wish she would just stop so I could look and see what was happening. Where was the danger? What danger? All I could see was smoking coming from the cafeteria, that old, run-down cafeteria; it needed to be looked at when all was done. Vera asked me where I was going. She tried pulling me back, but the smoke was getting too much for her, so she ran to the direction of the exit.

I am looking at the smoke. It looks like the light, that I saw once—ouch!

Come on, David. It is not safe in here. The corridor is getting blurry. Let’s go.

But, Mrs. Fraser, look—it is so red.

David, come on. We must get out of here.

I was tired to be told what to do.

Hold Nicholas’s hands, we are in danger, we must get out of here.

The smoke was getting closer, but for some reason, I was not afraid. There was no danger; that was Mrs. Fraser for you, making more out of nothing. We were in danger, yet there went Mrs. Fraser stopping to speak with Mrs. Hoskotch. Some danger. I wondered about adults sometimes. Very weird.

We must move swift, I heard Mrs. Fraser say again to the class. I tried to pull away from Nicholas; his hand was sweaty, not sure why. He was scared; you could see it in his eyes. I pulled my hand away. Yuck, awful!

Let go of my hands, Nicholas, I am going to the front of the line.

No, you are not, Jaden and I saw what you did.

Be careful, Nicholas. What are you talking about? Watch your words, crybaby. I had to correct him.

Did you not you hear what Mrs. Hoskotch said what the cook saw?

Well, well, you are the brave one, Nicholas, who would have thought.

Nicholas was blaming me for the class being punished for my misbehavior and that I was trouble. He overspoke when he said the reason why he was speaking out was because Jaden also saw, and they were sticking together. Nicholas was saying things now that were really aggravating. Nicholas was going on and on. I told him to stop, but Nicholas found his voice.

You are not going to get away with it, and you are not the boss of us.

Well, well, you are the brave, Nicholas, who would have thought.

I envisioned pushing Nicholas in the fire, but I knew this was not going to happen. I looked at him and ran to the front of the line; we were finally outside and three blocks away from the school. We were outside for two hours, and cold, when I heard the principal over the walkie-talkie, asking for the code red bean; we were told to come back because our parents were called to come and get us. The fire engine was already there when we arrived back at the school. They were able to contain the fire and was going to take evidence at scene to find out what caused the fire. I knew they weren’t going to find anything just by the questions I heard they were asking the older kids and teachers back at the school grounds. I felt hot, even though it was freezing outside. All this for nothing. What was the purpose? Now they must tell the parents that the fire was caused by an undetected scent, that no one, not even the cook, could account for. The cook saw nothing, heard nothing; all she had to go by was a scent. This was going to be interesting. As I stood there, waiting for my parents to come pick me up, I heard them saying, Thank God, no one got hurt, and that the gas exhaust might have gotten loose. Was that the best they could come up with?

It was announced over the speaker that school would be closed for the rest of the week, until further notice, and that parents would be contacted on work assignments for the students. The parents were here now, and Principal Hoskotch assured them not to be alarmed, that everything was under control and that the children would be back sooner than they thought. Everything was so outdated at this school; I could see that old, ragged loudspeaker with the big speaker box at the side of the reception area. This school needed to get into the twenty-first century. The parents were also told once again, no need for alarm. The report from the Edison Fire Department and the Police Department of Edison that the fire was set from a fuse, and this could happen anywhere, and it did not reflect neglect on the school part. It had nothing to do with arson.

Nora gave a big sigh of relief; all the parents did. I guess the Edison department did their job by keeping the parents convinced until the investigation was done thoroughly.

I heard the lieutenant call Principal Hoskotch while Mrs. Fraser went to talk with Mrs. Duplantis, Nicholas’s mom. I felt something was going on but could not be for sure. And then they both went over to speak with lieutenant. They found out something.

I wanted to leave immediately. So I pulled my mom and said, I am cold, let’s leave.

Be quiet, your teacher is coming over with the lieutenant, let me speak to them.

Lieutenant, what have you discovered?

I found a match and this toy car, it seems someone was trying to burn it.

I felt like I was going to wet my pants when the lieutenants said he might can get a fingerprint from the burned car; then he said to me, Heard you had a horrible day today.

Nora looked at her son. Mrs. Fraser assured Nora that everything would be okay and that they would ill let us know when to return to school and that by next week the assignments would be