Be Eleven Half-moons and Squiggles Mr. Mwila walked down the space that separated the girls and Ellis Carter from the boys, to hand out our second attempt at essay writing. I twisted and craned to catch an Excellent, Very Good, Good, or Satisfactory on someone’s paper. I couldn’t help but be competitive. If Ellis got a Very Good, I knew I’d get an Excellent. If Frieda earned an Excellent, I knew I’d get a Very Good. But if Frieda got a Very Good, I’d have to be content with Good. Even after a few weeks I didn’t know what kind of marker Mr. Mwila was. He explained things, brought in articles for social studies, and demonstrated how things worked in science and in math more than he quizzed us, so it was hard to know if I’d be skipping along or struggling like on heavy laundry days. No one with an essay in their hand was saying anything, but they studied their marked sheets and made faces before turning their papers right-side down. Lucy received her paper and did a little chair dance.
