When I was in the 4th grade, my elementary school decided to put a zip line on our playground. There were bars on the side and a bar going across, and some of the kids would climb on top of the bars when they got across. One particular time I was zipping across and there were two girls on top of the bars, the one girl decided she wanted down so she pushed me off and I fell 5-6 (ish) feet down to the ground and broke my wrist.
It was during lunch recess, so there was still a couple hours left of school. I went in and told my teacher what happened and that my wrist really really hurt. She only saw the gravel scrapes, so she put a band-aid on my wrist and sent me back to my seat. She wouldn’t let me go home, wouldn’t let me call my mom, and wouldn’t even let me go get ice. She was a mean teacher!
A little later in the day, I was so swollen (from finger tip to elbow, pretty much), I went up to the teacher aid and asked her if it looked swollen to her. She agreed that it looked very swollen, so I went up to my teacher a second time and showed her. She still wouldn’t let me go home or call my mom. I just sat at my desk and cried; it hurt so bad! I couldn’t zip up my back pack–couldn’t even let my arm just hang down at my side or anything; it just hurt really bad! When I finally got home and showed my mom she was pretty mad. She asked me why I hadn’t called her, and I told her my teacher wouldn’t let me. If I was smart I would have just walked out and gone to the nurses office anyway.
We went to the hospital, they had to put a soft wrap on it for a couple weeks before they could even put a cast on it because it was so swollen. I was so sad my school class was going swimming at a rec center the next day and I couldn’t go. I came to school when they got back from their field trip. You should have seen my teachers face fall to the floor when she saw me in a sling!
