Scribble’s Dragon

A dragon’s nose was taking shape when three sums landed right on top of it.

“Seven plus five is twelve!” called Mr. Wren from the front of the magic classroom.

The sums appeared in chalky handwriting across my middle. One covered the dragon’s nose. Another sat where his left eye ought to be.

“Oh, dear,” I said. My voice came from the wooden frame around me. “I was making a picture.”

The children looked up from their notebooks. Lena was the first to notice.

“Sorry, Scribble,” she said. “We have to copy the lesson notes.”

“I know,” I replied. “Your notes are important. But I’ve been working on this dragon all morning.”

I was a classroom blackboard, and I could draw all by myself. A piece of chalk would hop from my tray, and off it would go, making curls, dots, and swooping lines. I had drawn a dragon once before, but that one had a tail like a question mark and feet like muffins. This time, I wanted to finish the whole thing and show the class.

Mr. Wren tapped his wand on the desk. A neat row of sums appeared below the others. Then a list of spelling words appeared beside them.

The children bent over their notebooks. Their pencils scratched. I tried to squeeze my dragon into the space beside the sums, but there was hardly room for a wing.

“Maybe I can draw him up there,” I said, pointing my chalk toward the blank strip near the top of my frame.

My chalk leaped up. It made a little line, then slid down the board with a squeak.

The chalk landed in its tray.

“Not quite,” said Lena.

“I’ll try again,” I said.

This time, the chalk climbed higher, but as soon as it touched the board, it slipped down like a tiny white sled. It left a crooked mark beside the spelling words.

I wanted to finish my dragon. I also wanted the children to read their notes. There had to be a way to do both.

Lena stood up from her desk and studied me from top to bottom. Her eyes stopped just above the last row of sums. “Wait,” she said. “There’s a clear space up there.”

Lena pointed to the blank strip above the notes. It was wide enough for a dragon’s head and two wings, if only my chalk would stay put.

“I see it,” I said. “But my chalk keeps sliding.”

Lena glanced at my wooden chalk tray. “You need something to hold the chalk steady while you draw.”

Mr. Wren opened the supply cupboard. Inside were paper stars, a sleepy toy owl, and a little wooden ledge used for displaying spell cards. Lena carried it over carefully.

“Could we rest this under the blank space?” she asked.

Mr. Wren nodded. “If we hold it firmly, Scribble can set the chalk on it between strokes. And I can charm the ledge to keep the chalk from slipping while it draws.”

Lena placed the ledge against my frame, just below the empty strip. She pressed both hands against it. Mr. Wren helped at the other end, then tapped the ledge with his wand. A blue thread of light curled from a little groove in the wood and looped around the chalk.

“Now the charm will hold the chalk against the board as it moves,” Mr. Wren said. “When Scribble pauses, it can rest safely in the groove.”

“Ready?” Lena asked.

“Ready,” I answered, though I felt a small wobble in my frame.

My chalk hopped out of the tray and settled in the groove. The blue thread snugged it against the board. I drew a long, curved line for the dragon’s cheek. The chalk stayed in place instead of sliding down. When I paused, it rested safely in the groove.

“Look!” said a boy named Milo. “It’s working!”

I drew a round eye, a crooked smile, and two nostrils that looked like little commas. The children giggled.

“Dragons can be funny,” I said.

Next came a tall neck and one great wing. The chalk moved in small strokes, held firmly to the board by the blue thread. Each time I paused, it settled back in the ledge’s groove. Lena kept her hands steady, even when her arms began to feel tired.

“Just a little farther,” she said.

I drew the second wing, then a curling tail with a tiny arrow at its tip. One last line made the dragon’s belly. My chalk paused in the groove.

The dragon was complete. Above him, his horns curved like two friendly hooks. Below him, every sum and spelling word remained clear and easy to read.

The class clapped. Mr. Wren tapped the ledge with his wand again, and the blue thread faded. Lena let go of the ledge, and Mr. Wren set it back in the cupboard.

“You did it, Scribble,” Lena said.

“We did it,” I replied. “You found the space, and you held things steady.”

The classroom grew quieter. Mr. Wren gathered the spell cards, and the students tucked their notebooks into their bags. Milo gave the dragon a small wave on his way out.

“Good night, dragon,” he said.

The dragon’s chalk smile seemed to grow a little wider. I was pleased, but I was careful not to wiggle my frame too much. A dragon’s smile could smudge if I shook.

Lena stayed behind to put away her pencil. She looked at the sums still written beneath my picture.

“I can read every one,” she said. “And I can still see your dragon.”

“That is exactly what I hoped for,” I told her.

Mr. Wren turned off the classroom lamps, one by one. The room settled into its evening hush. Chairs rested beneath desks, and the little toy owl on the shelf gave a quiet wooden hoot when the door closed.

Lena paused in the doorway. “Will you keep the dragon there?”

“I will,” I said. “Right beside the lesson notes.”

“Then I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“And tomorrow,” I said, “I might add one small detail.”

Lena smiled and waved. The door clicked shut, leaving the dragon and me together in the classroom.

I looked at the neat sums below us. Seven plus five was still twelve. The spelling words were still lined up in their proper place. Above them, my dragon spread his chalk wings across the clear space. He seemed to be keeping watch over the lesson without covering a single letter.

The chalk settled into its tray. My frame stopped creaking. Nothing more needed drawing tonight.

In the quiet room, the dragon’s long tail curled beside the notes, and his funny little nostrils pointed toward the ceiling. I held the whole picture carefully, keeping every line in place until the morning bell would bring Lena and the class back again.