Digging to China Kalen Schack
There was a hill with grass stubble that shone with dew in the peeking morning sun. That hill would hide a project that would land four or five young boys— depending on attendance— in the heart of Mainland China. The teacher claimed that if you were to tunnel through the earth you would eventually reach China. We thought to dig straight down with hands and sticks like early man, a rubber-handled garden trowel if we were lucky, and pop our heads out somewhere new. We didn’t know where or what China was or who lived there. We only knew the shape on a map and the little gold stickers that came hidden on the bottom of all our toys. I couldn’t imagine how one place could have so many toys, and how happy the people there must be. Each day we crept through the woods to a field, grappled by a rusting chain link fence, to crouch and dig with grubby hands and talk about things that children think are important. We wiped our hands 70
