“The Football Party”
- 6 days ago
- 3 min read
Updated: 12 hours ago
By K. A. Polzin
One Monday morning, in my kindergarten classroom, Oliver read excitedly from his journal, “On Friday, we’re having a football party.” Alongside his writing was a drawing of children playing football.
“Where is this football party?” I asked.
He smiled. “Here, in Room 112,” he said, as though it was obvious.
I had no football party planned, but I didn’t say anything. I decided to play along. I was curious to see how things would play out.
On Tuesday, Oliver read from his journal, “Only four more days until the football party.” Then he pointed to his drawing – several kids playing football on our playground – and said, “That’s Anthea, and that’s Farah, and that’s Kevin.” These were kids in his class.
“The football party looks fun,” I said.
Oliver: “It is.”
On Wednesday, I learned more. “My mom is making a big cake for the football party,” Oliver read to me from his journal. There was the usual drawing of kids playing football, but in the foreground, he’d added a woman holding a very large cake.
“It looks good,” I said.
“It’s chocolate,” Oliver said.
“My favorite,” I said.
“I know!” Oliver replied.
I considered calling his mom, asking what she knew about this football party, but I decided it would be more fun to wait and maybe be surprised.
On Thursday, Oliver read, “I’m excited because tomorrow is the football party.” His drawing was elaborate: some kids eating cake, other kids playing football. The woman stood by, watching. And I was there, with my whistle.
“You know, we don’t have a football,” I cautioned Oliver.
“I’m bringing one,” he said brightly. He’d thought of everything.
Anthea had overheard. “Are we really having a football party?” she asked me. Other students turned to hear my reply. It seemed the kids had been watching the story develop, too.
“We’ll see,” was all I said. Because I really didn’t know.
I have to admit that on Friday morning, in my busyness, I’d forgotten all about the football party, which I had been pretty sure was all in Oliver’s mind. As usual, I had a full day’s schedule planned.
The kids began arriving, and then Oliver walked in with a football under his arm, and his mother walked in behind him holding what I figured was the cake, the chocolate cake.
“Today’s the football party!” Oliver announced triumphantly. Kids turned around in the coat area, their jackets half off, their backpacks still on one arm, and stared in awe.
What arrangement his mother thought I’d made with Oliver I don’t know, and I didn’t ask. I greeted her politely, had her put the cake on an empty tabletop, and I immediately slotted the football party into our schedule.
“The football party will be right before recess,” I announced to everyone, as though it had always been my plan. Our plan. “We can have some cake and take the football out to the yard.”
There was a general cry of Yay! Oliver was beaming.
Oliver’s mother and I chatted, and she told me what I already knew: the cake was a chocolate cake, Oliver had requested it – he’d said it was my favorite.
About ten minutes before recess, I cut my lesson short, and we all went outside for the football party, which – even though it was just cake, and some kids throwing around Oliver’s football – was a big hit.
And I remember the feeling of giving over, of letting things happen, for perhaps the first time as a teacher. It seemed like the key to something.
K. A. Polzin’s stories have appeared in Subtropics, swamp pink, Gulf Coast, Wigleaf, and elsewhere, and have been anthologized in Best Small Fictions 2023 and the Fractured Lit Anthology 3, and chosen for the 2025 Wigleaf Top 50. Polzin is a finalist for The Greensboro Review’s 2025 Robert Watson Literary Prize.
