OK, back at school, remember I'm still in first grade.
My memory of this first year of school is filled both with hope and fear. HOPE in making new friends, so as not to feel so alone anymore. FEAR of those nuns who wear all black outfits except for their 'bib' of white that goes around their neck. (I actually used to wonder how they ate and never got their 'bib' dirty).
Those nuns were very sadistic rulers of the school both in the schoolyard and classroom. They hid rulers (there's that word again!) in the depths of their black dresses that flowed from their neck to their toes. They also had 'clickers' in one of their pockets. I lived in fear of the ruler.
It wasnt't more than a few weeks into school. Sitting at my desk doing my classwork I felt someone watching me from behind. Now, I was a smart child. My mom told me that I was reading books at 18 months of age. Actually, I had memorized the books I loved most, but I very much impressed my aunts and friends of my mom as I would read away without missing a word!!!
Anyway, that chilly feeling over my shoulder made me so uncomfortable that I turned around. There stood Sister Something (I can't remember her name). She didn't look happy. Actually, she never looked happy. I just stared at her and she made a funny move with her mouth like she ate something very sour. Then she said to me in a very loud voice "Hold out your hands". So, I put my pencil down and did as she said. You always had to obey the nuns.
Out came the ruler and cracked down on my hands - across my nuckles. I moved my hands to my face and cried out in pain. She made me put my hands out again and hit them one more time. Then I began to cry.
"YOU ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE DEVIL", she yelled at me. "Pick up your pencil with your right hand". But I tried to tell her that I did not write with that hand. I was a lefty. Just like my dad. "Pick up your pencil with your other hand", she said again. So I did. "Now write", she said. And I did. And I cried again.
This cracking of the nuckles went on for some time. Maybe a few weeks - can't remember. Finally, after hearing Sister Something yell at me over and over, I told my mother.
My mother, thank heaven, came into school with me and spoke with the Sister Superior. From that time on, Sister Something never bothered me with her ruler. But I could tell she held the utmost contempt for me. I could fee it through my being.
This began my love/hate relationship with school. This also began my love/hate relationship with God.
Monday, January 17, 2005
The Nuns......and my Cousin
First day of school was not the best day of my life. Because my mother had two small children at home, I had to walk to school alone. This, in itself, was not a terrible task. I walked to school. Arrived on time. And was placed in the Second Grade line. Wait a minute, I was supposed to be in first grade.
I just stood there and cried. I was a first grader. This was my first day of school. The nuns insisted I was in the 2nd grade, due to my height most probably. Most of the 1st grade children were small, petite and cute. I had already outgrown that. I was much taller, and obviously more gangily (is this a word??). Anyway, it wasnt' until almost lunchtime that it was discovered that I was in the wrong classroom. Those nuns. They were not very understanding. Like it was my fault that I was too tall to be in first grade.
Anyway, the nuns (I'm going to say that alot: "nuns") took my class down to the lunch room. We had a cafeteria style lunch. You were given lunch and there was no talking at the tables while you ate. OK, that didn't bother me at all. I was really most comfortable not talking to the other kids that I was just shoved into class with. I felt so alone.
Lunch that day was not so memorable until we came to the dessert. It was a prune-type danish. It smelled awful, looked gross, and I did not want to eat it. Ok, I thought, I'll just throw this away in the rubbish. "NO WAY", said the nun who was in charge of the cafeteria. You must finish your lunch before you leave the room.
There was no choice in the matter. I had to eat the prune thing.....and guess what - I ate it. Actually, eating is not the correct term. Rather, I forced myself to chew each piece as few times as possible and then swallow - holding my breath so I would not smell the evil thing. I got it all down but not without consequence.
When my lunch tray was clean I was allowed to go back to the playground where the other children were. But I could not play. My stomach was making these lurching motions that I was unable to control. Oops!! up came my entire lunch. And guess who was blamed for the mess on the playground - ME. I cried, mostly from embarrasment. Here I was, my first day at school and how horrible a day. I was placed in the wrong grade and then I threw up in front on all these kids that I did not even know. I just wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. I wanted to talk to my friend Petey the dog. What did I get - just these cold stares from the nuns.
Back into the classroom we all went. I was assigned a seat in the back of the room. Eventually the day was over and I had to walk home - alone.
But, the walk home was not uneventful. I had to walk through a section of woods, where I noticed someone was hiding. It was a man. Whoa! I didn't know much about men. But, this one scared me. I saw him come out from behind a big tree. He was walking behind me. No one else around. I felt my feet moving me faster and faster. Up ahead I saw one of my favotite trees that I moved towards and just seemed to hug & slide my body around. It was a big ole maple and I just hugged the tree as I watched the man walk on by. Hugging my friend the tree, I continued on.
Whatever, I thought. I remember not being frightened, or so I thought. But there was some physical reaction within my body that made an imprint on me. And, if I think back to that day, I can bring up that same physical feeling within me.
Shortly after this, I was able to walk home from school with a cousin of mine. We never wanted to go directly home. There was too many other directions to explore first. As kids go, we went on a few adventures together - meaning we would decide not to go directly home, but to go through the town and explore.
On one particularly warm day, we had walked passed a bakery and just lingered watching the employees moving like little busy bees helping customer after customer. Plus, it smelled really good. Fresh baked bread was a dreamy smell to us.
Eventually we decided we'd better get home and began a slow walk home. Not wanting to hurry the process of getting to our destination (my house), we stopped by a small stream running along side the road and I, being thirsty, took a small drink from the stream.
My cousin, Andrea, laughed and laughed. (She was my friend, but after this I was never trusting of her.) I asked her what was so funny. She said that I had probably drank snake eggs and that they would hatch in my stomach. Oh my god, I thought. I was in terror mode. All I could imagine is a baby snake hatching in my stomach and making its way up my throat, choking me or worse, coming out my mouth. What was I to do???
For nights and weeks after this, I had nightmares and was terrified of my own being. I didn't want to brush my teeth or even open my mouth. Again, I find myself in an embarassing position - all within a matter of weeks of starting school.
This I tell you, because in retrospect I find that there have been a number of 'triggers' that have made such strong impressions upon my being that made it so uncomfortable for me to open my mouth and speak/talk. To this day, I find it uncomfortable to talk/speak. But I am continually working to overcome this personal terror.
Next, the nuns tell me what they really think of me. (Remember, I'm only in First Grade).
~ The Mediator
I just stood there and cried. I was a first grader. This was my first day of school. The nuns insisted I was in the 2nd grade, due to my height most probably. Most of the 1st grade children were small, petite and cute. I had already outgrown that. I was much taller, and obviously more gangily (is this a word??). Anyway, it wasnt' until almost lunchtime that it was discovered that I was in the wrong classroom. Those nuns. They were not very understanding. Like it was my fault that I was too tall to be in first grade.
Anyway, the nuns (I'm going to say that alot: "nuns") took my class down to the lunch room. We had a cafeteria style lunch. You were given lunch and there was no talking at the tables while you ate. OK, that didn't bother me at all. I was really most comfortable not talking to the other kids that I was just shoved into class with. I felt so alone.
Lunch that day was not so memorable until we came to the dessert. It was a prune-type danish. It smelled awful, looked gross, and I did not want to eat it. Ok, I thought, I'll just throw this away in the rubbish. "NO WAY", said the nun who was in charge of the cafeteria. You must finish your lunch before you leave the room.
There was no choice in the matter. I had to eat the prune thing.....and guess what - I ate it. Actually, eating is not the correct term. Rather, I forced myself to chew each piece as few times as possible and then swallow - holding my breath so I would not smell the evil thing. I got it all down but not without consequence.
When my lunch tray was clean I was allowed to go back to the playground where the other children were. But I could not play. My stomach was making these lurching motions that I was unable to control. Oops!! up came my entire lunch. And guess who was blamed for the mess on the playground - ME. I cried, mostly from embarrasment. Here I was, my first day at school and how horrible a day. I was placed in the wrong grade and then I threw up in front on all these kids that I did not even know. I just wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. I wanted to talk to my friend Petey the dog. What did I get - just these cold stares from the nuns.
Back into the classroom we all went. I was assigned a seat in the back of the room. Eventually the day was over and I had to walk home - alone.
But, the walk home was not uneventful. I had to walk through a section of woods, where I noticed someone was hiding. It was a man. Whoa! I didn't know much about men. But, this one scared me. I saw him come out from behind a big tree. He was walking behind me. No one else around. I felt my feet moving me faster and faster. Up ahead I saw one of my favotite trees that I moved towards and just seemed to hug & slide my body around. It was a big ole maple and I just hugged the tree as I watched the man walk on by. Hugging my friend the tree, I continued on.
Whatever, I thought. I remember not being frightened, or so I thought. But there was some physical reaction within my body that made an imprint on me. And, if I think back to that day, I can bring up that same physical feeling within me.
Shortly after this, I was able to walk home from school with a cousin of mine. We never wanted to go directly home. There was too many other directions to explore first. As kids go, we went on a few adventures together - meaning we would decide not to go directly home, but to go through the town and explore.
On one particularly warm day, we had walked passed a bakery and just lingered watching the employees moving like little busy bees helping customer after customer. Plus, it smelled really good. Fresh baked bread was a dreamy smell to us.
Eventually we decided we'd better get home and began a slow walk home. Not wanting to hurry the process of getting to our destination (my house), we stopped by a small stream running along side the road and I, being thirsty, took a small drink from the stream.
My cousin, Andrea, laughed and laughed. (She was my friend, but after this I was never trusting of her.) I asked her what was so funny. She said that I had probably drank snake eggs and that they would hatch in my stomach. Oh my god, I thought. I was in terror mode. All I could imagine is a baby snake hatching in my stomach and making its way up my throat, choking me or worse, coming out my mouth. What was I to do???
For nights and weeks after this, I had nightmares and was terrified of my own being. I didn't want to brush my teeth or even open my mouth. Again, I find myself in an embarassing position - all within a matter of weeks of starting school.
This I tell you, because in retrospect I find that there have been a number of 'triggers' that have made such strong impressions upon my being that made it so uncomfortable for me to open my mouth and speak/talk. To this day, I find it uncomfortable to talk/speak. But I am continually working to overcome this personal terror.
Next, the nuns tell me what they really think of me. (Remember, I'm only in First Grade).
~ The Mediator
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