Recently I talked about developing a nurturing voice inside my head. Easier said than done. I am still so comfortable with the familiar voice--critical, self-hating, quick to spot everything I do wrong, even innocent mistakes.
Chime. Dissolve into…
Fourth grade. Just after lunch. My teacher is talking to the 6th grade teacher Miss Waterman in the doorway of my classroom. As I start to go inside, Miss Waterman grabs my arm and yells, "Hasn't anybody ever told you to not walk between two people having a conversation?" (Actuallly, nobody has ever told me that.) Consumed w/ guilt, I stammer an apology. As I slink into the classroom, I hear Miss Waterman tell my teacher, “Immature.”
Ooh, that hurt right through my bones--“Immature.” I’d always thought I was fairly grownup. From then on I noticed every example of my immaturity and hated myself for it: I always screwed things up. I cried all the time. I failed at sports. My room was a mess. I didn't know my multiplication tables.
Now fast forward to junior high where I was really immature--still playing with dolls, still crying, still doing everything wrong. It got so I became the school joke. One day a group of popular kids surrounded me as I was getting into my locker. They started kicking me and laughing. I don’t know why. I tried kicking them, but missed by a mile, and they all jumped back, laughing even harder now.
The rage one feels at a time like this!
Soon after that, I went into the girl’s room after school, locked one of the stalls, then crawled out under the door.
The very next day the principal came on the intercom and announced in tones of greatest disgust, “Yesterday some girl used the restroom and then crawled under the door, so that it was locked from the inside. I don’t know why anybody would do something like that. I’d like to talk to that young lady!”
Sitting at my desk, I convulsed with delight. I’d had no idea I’d created that much trouble. In a way, I was famous. Nothing in all of junior high ever gave me half as much satisfaction.
...Dissolve back to present day. Poe sits gazing, chin in hand.
Well, here I am, all grown up, Miss Waterman, and still very immature. But I have learned a thing or two from this story:
1) Prevent bullying and you prevent vandalism.
2) Anybody can make another person feel small. The real measure of an indiviual is how much you can build people up, especially those who don't do things your way.
3) It all starts with me.
...and...
4)Never walk between two people having a conversation.
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1 comment:
That Miss Watermellon was a BH from way back. She decided I couldn't be trusted because I chased Margaret Pittenger a bit when she wasn't in the room and somebody ratted and can't be trusted got on my permanent record. All that psoriasis on her arms and the constant scratching and her persistant ugliness must have made her bitter indeed.
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