Anshina Verma Q2 Blog #7 - The Trading Ring
I run, grabbing my lunchbox from the backpack hooks, clutching it to my chest, an effort to keep it from falling out of my grasp.
I heave, my legs pumping, get behind the wall ball wall! My accomplices surround me, alright, fine, but 'accomplices' is a stretch; classmates is more like it. I huff, setting my lunchbox down in front of me, but it contained something else for me to feast on besides lunch.
I stare at my classmates as we sit in a circle, our lunchboxes in front of our laps on the gravel, forming a circle of some sort. The sixth graders called us a cult; we didn’t care. Whatever chatter the older kids participated in was none of our concern. I unzip my lunch box, and the rest of my classmates follow suit. A few dozen Shopkins tumble out of my lunchbox, and others do the same, except pencils, scented erasers, lip gloss, stickers, and other small trinkets that nine-year-olds can’t seem to get enough of cover the small area of gravel.
We called it the trading ring. It was notorious in my third-grade class. Kids would trade objects, someone would want something back, the other would refuse, and the fighting would commence. My teacher, Mr. Scarson, was fed up with it. He banned it outright.
Did we listen?
Of course not.
We had an approved list of kids in the trading ring which was composed of roughly 70% of the third-grade population, and 95% from my class specifically. We had a few stragglers, kids that couldn’t be trusted. I’ll never forget the day one of them found out, and by 10:52 at recess, the news had spread, and we had to do damage control. It was practically war, or however much nine-year-olds can participate in war, we challenged him to a game of lava monster. Devilish decision, I’m aware.
And so the chase began.
Will you keep our secret? We asked in unison (roughly fourteen of us decided to sacrifice our recess for the sake of psychological warfare).
The perpetrator in question adamantly refused.
Okay, Game on.
We chased and chased, a select few, gifted at running, as they liked to demonstrate during PE, succeeded in cornering our loose end. More or less, they threatened to start picking their boogers furiously if the perpetrator didn’t comply with the fourteen of us, in all the hustle and bustle, it had turned into 22 (yes, I did count).
Today, American crime thrives through complex networks, much like ours did. Drug trafficking, corruption, and systemic exploitation all threaten to increase violence and inequality. My humorous account of elementary school is proof that crime evolves faster than we as a society can prevent it.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/trinketsofrenfest/posts/3398769823590041/
Hi Anshina! I saw the word Shopkins and my brain genuinely had to pause. You have no idea the grip those rubber figures had on my adolescence; I literally begged my mom for the golden cookie, and I got it. I too had similar experiences to your “trading ring,” only I would trade my beloved Shopkins for Pokemon cards. There were two guys who would give me their iridescent cards in return for some mesely, common Shopkin because they wanted to give it to their crushes.
ReplyDeleteAs I was reading, I was excited to see how you planned to relate your blog to America. I was elated to see you brought it back to crime networks because I’ve been reading quite a bit about those recently—reading the news regularly really is changing up my interests. Your vivid reaccountment of your third grade made it effortless to imagine. I conjured up a full-on Bond movie in my mind. Gang violence and operations have become a more prevalent issue in America and it’s understandable as to why. When more regulations are pressed on them, more and more people are recruited in attempts to cover their crimes. Thank you so much for your humorous and nostalgic blog this week Anshina.