KIDS IN ACTION
By Kathleen M. Muldoon
When I was in grade school, I had a recurring dream. It always featured a small cottage and I was living in it. I knew every inch of that house and its tiny yard enclosed by a white picket fence. Since I’d always lived in an apartment rather than a house, I decided the dream predicted that some day I would live in my dream cottage—Barbie had her Dream House and I had mine.
So, you can imagine my excitement when a school assignment gave me the opportunity to bring that house to life, at least on paper. My all-time favorite seventh grade math teacher, Mr. Pegliaro, handed out graph paper for our weekend homework on which we were to draw, to scale, a house—either the one we currently inhabited or the home we hoped to own one day.
“I know what my dream house looks like,” Walter said on the way home from school. He and his twin sister Mary Ann lived in my apartment complex. “Only ‘house’ doesn’t describe it. It’s a mansion, like the governor lives in. One sheet of graph paper might not even be
enough, ’cause we have to draw the rooms and stuff too.”
Mary Ann laughed. “You’re such a slob you can’t even clean your own room. Who’s going to clean your mansion?”
“Duh,” Walter replied. “I’ll have servants.”
“I’m going to draw our apartment building,” Mary Ann said. “You know why? Because I’m going to own it some day. I’ll fix it all up so I can charge more rent. I’ll be a millionaire!”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, right, I can see you living in that dinky apartment in the basement and having angry tenants calling you every time they clog up their toilets.”
“That’s where the building super lives,” Mary Ann said. “He does all the repairs and junk. I’m not going to live in the apartments, just go and collect the rent!”
“So where are you going to live?” I asked.
“Don’t even think of moving into my mansion,” Walter added.
“I wouldn’t set foot in your sorry mansion. I’ll live abroad, like in England or France. What about you, Kath?”
“You’ll see,” I said, not yet willing to share my recurring dream.
Our apartment building looked dingier than ever after our grand talk. All weekend I worked on my dream house, carefully drawing the tiny rooms and blocking in the rocking chairs and rugs. I even did sketches of my dream yard. One whole square was for the dog house for the Irish setter I planned to own.
Monday morning on the way to school, I shared my dream house plans with Mary Ann and Walter. Walter laughed so hard he started choking.
“Not even Beanie could fit in there!” he gasped. Beanie was his cat.
“It is kind of small,” Mary Ann said. It was obvious she was not impressed by my drawing but was trying to spare my feelings.
With all the dignity I could muster, I rolled up my plans and stuck them back in my backpack. Why should I defend my house? Mr. Pegliaro awarded it an A, and that was good enough for me.
Do you ever dream of the perfect place where you would like to live some day? If so, draw it while it’s still vivid in your memory. It doesn’t
have to be drawn to scale, because you’ll know inside when it’s perfect. If you want to share your drawing, email a copy to: action@unitedspinal.org, or mail it to:
KIDS IN ACTION
United Spinal Association
75-20 Astoria Boulevard
Jackson Heights, NY 11370-1177
By the way, I haven’t found my dream house yet, but every time I ride through a new town, I keep looking.
Kathleen M. Muldoon is a children’s book author and writing instructor for the Institute of Children’s Literature. She lives in San Antonio, Texas.
