Nearly 10 o’clock. Jimmy Jones stared at his 5th grade homework assignment.
“Write a very short story of 100-300 words, using the title prompt:
It Rocks Like a Baby in the Cradle.
Oh crap, why did I wait so late again?
He put his pen to paper and began to write:
*****
The Rocks Like a Baby in the Cradle
By the firelight of a warm, moonless evening, the mother puts her baby in the cradle.
She gently rocks it, and sings nursery rhymes like Baa Baa Black Sheep, and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. The baby gurgles and coos. After a while, the mother grows drowsy and falls asleep.
A nearby rock moves. Then another. Inching closer. And closer…
By the light of early morning, the fire is embers.
The mother startles awake, surprised that she slept all night under the stars. She peers inside the silent cradle at her baby.
She screams.
The only thing inside the cradle is a pile of rocks.
*****
Jimmy put down his pen and counted the words at 104. Done. He brushed his teeth and went to bed.
He woke the next morning, let out a groggy sigh, and slowly got out of bed. As he headed for the bathroom, he glanced at his story on the desk. He froze.
The Rocks Like a Baby in the Cradle
The rocks?
He read the assigned title again.
It Rocks Like a Baby in the Cradle.
Oh no.
It’s due today. Too late to fix. He groaned. Probably get an F now.
A couple of hours later in English class, Jimmy turned it in, then opened his textbook to work on his assignment for the period.
The teacher, Mrs. Harmon, sat at the desk with a red pen in her hand and read the stories.
Before the end of class, she passed out the graded stories one by one, her bright red pen marks glaring from each page.
“Good,” she said to Jane. “I really like this story,” she told Tommy. “Very interesting,” she said, nodding to Kim.
Jimmy anxiously watched the stack in her hand shrink until she had only one.
She walked to Jimmy’s desk and his heart sank. She saved the worst for last. His.
“Class, I want to point out something about Jimmy’s story.”
Uh-oh.
“Jimmy made a mistake. He used the wrong title for his story seed. What was the title supposed to be, class?”
“It Rocks Like a Baby in the Cradle,” the class said in unison.
“That is correct,” she said. “But Jimmy used the title ‘The Rocks Like a Baby in the Cradle’ instead.”
The class laughed. Jimmy cringed.
Mrs. Harmon caught Jimmy’s eye, then glanced around the room. Come on, lady, just give it to me already.
“Now, don’t laugh too soon, class. Today, you are all going to learn a lesson in writing.”
“Normally I would lower your grade for not completely following instructions.” She pointed to his paper. “But this…”
Jimmy’s palms were sweating. I am so getting an F.
“Jimmy substituted the definite article ‘the’ for the pronoun ‘it.’ One little word that changed the prompt slightly, but significantly.” She gave him a wink.
“But he went with it, and turned that mistake into something creative and original.” She chuckled. “It’s a little dark, Jimmy. A bit creepy. And very good.”
She handed him the page with a big red “A” smiling at the top.
“Jimmy, I would like you to read your short story to your classmates before the bell rings.”
Jimmy sheepishly rose from his chair, cleared his throat, and began to read.
The Rocks Like a Baby in the Cradle
By the firelight of a moonless evening…
He finished reading and sat in his seat as his classmates clapped and cheered. He looked at the big red A on the page and his heart swelled with pride. Why was I even worried?
The bell rang and they all filed out together talking about his story as they headed for lunch.
