I’m not going to school. Because I’m sleepy. I’m cold. No one likes me at school.
I’m not going to school. Because there are two children there. They’re bigger than me. They’re stronger than me.
When I go past them, they stick out their arms and block my way. I’m afraid. I’m afraid. I’m not going to school.
At school, time just stops. Everything gets left outside. Outside the school door. My room at home, for example.
Also my mother, my father, my toys, and the birds on the balcony. When I’m at school and I think about them,
I want to cry. I look out the window. In the sky outside, there are clouds.
I’m not going to school. Because I don’t like anything there.
The other day I did a picture of a tree. The teacher said, “That’s really a tree, well done.”
I did another one. This one had no leaves either. Then one of those children came over and made fun of me.
I’m not going to school. When I go to bed at night, and I think about going to school the next day,
I feel terrible. I say, “I’m not going to school.” They say, “How can you say that? Everyone goes to school.”
Everyone? So let everyone go, then. What’s going to happen if I stay home? I went yesterday, didn’t I?
How about if I don’t go tomorrow, and then go the day after that?
If only I were at home in my bed. Or in my room. If only I were anywhere but that school.
I’m not going to school, I’m sick. Can’t you see? The moment someone says school I feel sick, I get a stomachache.
I can’t even drink that milk. I’m not going to drink that milk,
I’m not going to eat anything, and I’m not going to school either. I’m so upset. No one likes me.
There are those two children. They stick out their arms and block my way. I went to the teacher.
The teacher said, “Why are you following me?” I’ll tell you something if you promise not to get mad.
I’m always following the teacher, and the teacher is always saying, “Don’t follow me.”
I’m not going to school, ever again. Why? Because I just don’t want to go to school, that’s why.
When it’s recess I don’t want to go outside, either. Just when everyone’s forgotten me, then it’s recess.
Then everything gets all mixed up, everyone starts running.
The teacher gives me a nasty look, and she doesn’t look too good to start with.
I don’t want to go to school. There’s one child who likes me, he’s the only one who looks at me nicely.
Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t like that child either. I just sit down and stay there.
I feel so lonely. Tears run down my cheeks. I don’t like school at all.
I don’t want to go to school, I say. Then it’s morning and they take me to school.
I can’t even smile, I look straight in front of me, I want to cry.
I climb up the hill with a bag on my back that is as big as a soldier’s,
and I keep my eyes on my little feet as they climb the hill.
Everything’s so heavy: the bag on my back, the hot milk in my stomach. I want to cry.
I walk into school. The black metal garden gate closes behind me. I cry, “Mommy, look, you left me inside.”
Then I go into my classroom and sit down. I want to become one of those clouds outside.
Erasers, notebooks, and pens: Feed them to the hens!
很好，很棒，很真实的一篇文章。Every one is blaming on kids, but they never thought about the kids.
图片来源：Aisa News Photo, The Daily Beast