“Alright, pens, pencils, scissors, is everybody ready to start the school day?” asked Shawn, the pencil sharpener, excitedly.

“We’re ready!” the pens, pencils, and scissors all shouted back to the sharpener.

All of the utensils were getting to their assigned places and ready for a full, crazy day of school.

“Oh man, I hope we get used today!” whined one of the pens.

“Me too! These kids are getting so smart we barely get to make corrections anymore!” said Angelica the pen, with pride in her voice.

“I am sure we will be used for at least one thing today,” another assured.

“I wonder what we will be doing today,” Terry the pair of scissors wondered out loud. The other scissors heard.

“Maybe we will get to make snowflakes today!” hoped one of them.

Another chimed in, “Or maybe holiday cards!”

“Okay everybody, we have a full day ahead of us,” warned the lead pencil. “We all need to be ready for a lot of writing. Is everybody sharpened?”

All of the pencils check that their lead comes to a point. Woody the pencil is carefully checking his lead when he sees a small chip in it. He turns to the leader, about to ask for help, when kids come charging into the room.

After the morning introductions, it is time for writing. A pencil is what most of the students chose to write with. Woody is nervous, he has never had a chip before but the student that chooses him does not seem to notice. When she begins writing, the very tip breaks off immediately. Ouch, Woody thinks as the student stops writing and examines the tip of the pencil. 

"Uh oh!" she exclaims.

Wanting to find a sharper pencil, the student walks over to the pencil bin. She sets Woody down as she looks for a new one. The pencil sharpener looks at Woody and sees what has happened to his lead. 

“Would you like me to help you?” the pencil sharpener asks quietly.

“No, thank you,” Woody responds. He wants the help but thinks he can go longer without being sharpened. Before Woody can think any farther, he is picked back up again by the girl who, after messily looking around, could not find another pencil.

Writing time is almost done now and Woody is exhausted. His lead has been getting shorter and shorter and the girl has become frustrated because he isn’t writing as well. She decides she has had enough and raises her hand for her teacher to find her a new pencil.

“What is wrong with the pencil you have?” the teacher questions, confused.

“It doesn’t work,” the girl exclaims, “it’s too hard to write with!”

The teacher looks over the pencil and sees that the girl is right, the pencil is too dull.