ooooh can I get a 1600 penn fic?? Skip goes through with trying to become a teacher?
I’m so sorry, this took FOREVER, but I got really into it. It’s literally a mess of writing styles though: it’s quite dialogue heavy because it’s TV show fanfic, I tried to be comedic in places but in others it’s just Traumatic Childhood 2.0, like wow sorry it’s actually awful. It’s only redeeming quality is that it’s 5,200 words long, so how that makes up for how terrible it is! (Also, yes I did name Becca’s baby after George Washington, and yes I am sorry, but at least I’m not the Marquis de Lafayette)
Skip’s kindergarten had been extravagant and new: bright red bricks, shining plastic, young teachers with the experience of retired principles. All work was done through play, food was cooked from fresh each morning, children wanted to listen in class. When a space opened up for a new pupil it made the local news.
The teachers called Skip a ‘boisterous child’, they liked to avoid words like ‘problem’ and 'difficult’. When he couldn’t pay attention to one thing they made him do nothing. Every time he wandered away from the paint station, or the sand box, or the story corner he would get picked up and dropped in the middle of the carpet, away from anything even remotely fun or educational. So naturally Skip came to hate school.
His mother protested, fighting with teachers and begging Dale to send him to another school. But it was only for a year, they said, and wasn’t it Skip’s fault for misbehaving? At the age of five he found himself longing for the weekends, where he could draw and read books about science and pretend his baby sister was a damsel in distress while he saved her from the top of the slide (even his mother admitted that last game was a little risky).
By first grade Skip was fully prepared to be the naughty kid. He was deprived of everything fun, so why should learn how to add numbers? It bored him. Despite the fact that he’d lost all interest in subjects school quickly became one of Skip’s favourite places. He found most teachers were too afraid to tell his parents when he misbehaved, and when they did his father was too busy to punish him and his mother only seemed to get mad at the teachers, never Skip.
“Every man carries a badge. Some symbol of his allegiance. His were the scars of a boxer who’d used his fists to climb the social ladder of the mob. A Jew who’d gained the respect of wops through a homicidal lust. He’d sworn an oath of violence. And his master? His own insatiable will to power. He wanted to own this town. His name was Mickey Cohen.”