Who Stole The Cookie From The Cookie Jar?

As the children played quietly in the various centers of their first grade room, Mrs. Ingle went over her lessons, perparing herself for the activities of the day. She liked to have materials ready for their fated uses, thereby simultaneously saving time and teaching the children the importance of organization.

She sat at the large, round table in the center of the room where daily lessons and art projects took place. She felt more connected to her students there than she did at her desk in the corner by the door. The table was a sort of apple red, something she always thought odd since it was the only one of its kind in the school; the rest were various faded browns. It was rumored that the teacher whose room it had been previously, and whom no one could now remember, had painted it with her class in a passionate reflection on individualism.

As Mrs. Ingle was thinking over the table's history, Johnathan shuffled into the room with his usual collection of school things.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ingle," he said politely as he transfered his things to his cubby.

"Good morning, Johnathan," she replied.

Johnathan always came in five minutes before class began. Mrs. Ingle enjoyed his consistent nature. She glanced at the clock on the far wall to see that he was right on time. He made his way over to the building blocks, his favorite center, where Sarah, Jackie and Michael were already playing.

One of Mrs. Ingle's joys of the day was watching the children at play. They were so innocent and it seemed the troubles of the world couldn't penetrate these walls. She found herself particularly joyful this morning and, wanting to share her good spirits, she clapped her hands twice to get the attention of the class.

Everyone looked up except Stephen. He was deaf.

Malcom poked Stephen's shoulder and pointed to Mrs. Ingle. Understanding the gesture, he smiled and immediately fixed his eyes upon her, ready to read her lips.

"Let's start with a fun game," said Mrs. Ingle. Chears rang out as the children made their way to the table, where all group games take place. "Does anyone know how to play 'Who Stole The Cookie From The Cookie Jar'?" Jackie's hand was the only response.

"Alright," said Mrs. Ingle, "watch and listen. Jackie and I will show you how to play and you can all join in when you understand."

Stephen was excited. He loved having to follow a conversation by ping-ponging his eyes between two people. And since it was already going to be a game, he was anticipating fun.

"Everyone ready?" asked Mrs. Ingle. Everyone nodded.

"Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?" she began. "Was it you?" She pointed at Jackie.

"But Mrs. Ingle, we don't have a cookie jar," said Sarah.

"Yes, I know, but we-"

"We could play 'Who Stole The Cookie From The Suggestion Box'!" yelled Erik, always trying to help.

"Who put a cookie in there in the first place?" asked Michael, thoroughly confused by such a strange course of action. "And how did they even get it through the paper slot?"

"Children," said Mrs. Ingle, attempting to refocus their attention.

"Maybe they were trying to suggest we have more cookies in the room," said Jessica.

"Or maybe more snack time," added Erik.

"I wish someone would put some new playground balls in the suggestion box," said George.

Mrs. Ingle clapped twice. Everyone stopped and looked at her, except Stephen. He was laughing and flailing his legs around thinking this was a great game. Sarah poked his shoulder. Stephen looked up anticipating the next round.

"Children," said Mrs. Ingle, "this is a game. It's fun and make-believe."

"Sounded real to me," said George.

"I don't see how ruining someone's reputation with accusations of theft is fun," added Jessica.

"I don't think I want Jackie borrowing my pencil anymore," wined Malcom.

Mrs. Ingle tried again. "Just listen to Jackie and I and see if you can catch on. This is only a game."

Stephen was ready.

"Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? Was it you?" Mrs. Ingle pointed at Jackie again.

"Who, me?"

"She pointed right at you," said George sarcastically.

"Listen, please," said Mrs. Ingle. "Yes, you," she said pointing again at Jackie.

"Couldn't be," said Jackie.

"I can atest to that!" yelled Sarah. "She was with me in building blocks! She couldn't have!"

Mrs. Ingle was not stopping again. "Then who?" she asked Jackie, whose finger immediately pointed to Malcom.

"Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?" asked Mrs. Ingle. "Was it you?" This time the inquiry was directed at Malcom. As soon as she pointed, he looked down at his feet and began to cry. Stephen smiled and poked Malcom's shoulder. This was a new part of the game, he thought.

"Jackie," said Mrs. Ingle, "please pick someone else." Jackie pointed at Johnathan.

"I don't think I should speak without my lawyer present." Johnathan wasn't taking any chances.

Mrs. Ingle was growing impatient. "Was it you?" Her finger was pointed at Michael. He pulled a sandwich bag out from his pocket. Inside was a single oatmeal raisin cookie.

"It's not mine," he said. "I'm just holding it for a friend."

All of the children gasped except Jessica who said, "No, no. The cookie we're looking for is chocolate chip."

"How do you know?" asked George. "Did you steal it?"

"No!" she yelled. "Mrs. Ingle said it was chocolate chip!"

"I said no such thing!" Mrs. Ingle retorted.

Alison, who had been patiently watching the case unfold, pointed at Stephen. "Maybe he stole it!"

Seeing the finger pointed at him, Stephen thought it was his turn. He laughed hysterically, flailed his legs around again and began pointing wildly at the other children, hoping he was winning.

"Oh sure," said George, "blame the deaf kid. Sounds like the desparate act of a guilty conscience."

"She couldn't have stolen it!" yelled Sarah. "She's left handed!"

"How do we know the culprit is right handed?" asked Jessica.

"Maybe that's how they got the cookie in the paper slot!" exclaimed Michael.

"So they took it from the cookie jar and then put it into the suggestion box," said Johnathan. "I think it's starting to make some sense."

"That means we have two thieves," said Jessica. "One stole it from the cookie jar, the other from the suggestion box."

"But the box is locked," said Erik, "and I don't think many people have access to the key. And how would they know the cookie had been placed in there anyway?"

"Sounds like an inside job," said Jessica.

Stephen was still pointing.

"Well someone stole it!" yelled George.

"Was it you, George?" asked Michael.

"No! I brought my own cookies; I don't need to steel the one from the cookie jar!"

The accusations of theft and contaminating the suggestion box continued into the afternoon, with everyone pointing and yelling all over the room. Finally, with no conclusion in sight, they all agreed to drop it.

At least until Johnathan noticed cookie crumbs under Mrs. Ingle's desk.