I'm unsure why, but lately I have been thinking alot about what I learned early on in childhood, that still helps me today. At least from experiences. Not really anything that I was taught by someone, but things I learned about myself.
One of my memories, that I don't think I have ever shared with anyone before was of first grade.
I'm not sure anyone who actually reads my blogs will remember her, but my first grade teacher was Mrs. Vega, a very old and cranky teacher.
Random fact #1: My uncle who is like 40ish now had her as his first grade teacher, and he said she had white hair then...
Random fact #2: Mrs. Vega had one of those regular cafeteria chairs with wheels on them for a computer chair. It sat on top of one of those plastic mats that made rolling on carpet easier. Mrs. Vega was a large woman, who I would describe as voluptuous. A good kind of overweight. Like when you hug your grandmother, and you sink in to her, and it's this amazing feeling of comfort and security. One day, she sat on the edge of the chair, it slid out from under her, and she landed on her arm. It was broken, and she started screaming, and my first grade class was terrified. I think it took 30 minutes before one of us realized that we would need to go to the office to get help.
Random fact #3: Mrs. Vega was not a woman to hug. If you cried, she called you a titty baby and offered no form of comfort whatsoever. How this woman ever became a first-grade teacher, I have no idea.
Now you know a little about Mrs. Vega. One day, Mrs. Vega gave a math test. I'm sure that it was some basic addition or subtraction, and I can't remember the exact equation, but I do remember what the answer should have been, and what the answer was.
This was a time when we still had those fold-out posterboard things that you would sit on the desk to prevent prying eyes from copying answers. I remember working and reworking the problem and coming up with the same answer. 2. It was simple. I knew that was the answer. So why wasn't it listed in the multiple choice? Could it be that our teacher made a mistake? Why weren't any of my classmates looking confused? I reworked it again. 2. 2 IS the answer. Why isn't it listed? What am I doing wrong? 3 minutes left... Why can't I get the right answer? I go back and rework the other 9 problems. All correct, or at least have the correct answer listed. What is wrong with me? Why can't I figure this out? I'm the only one that still hasn't handed in my test. 1 minute left? What to do? 2 is the answer... Why can't I find it?
So... A, B, C, and D remained uncircled. I drew a small 2 under the equation, knowing that was the correct answer. Hoping that maybe she would see my test and realize that there had been some sort of mistake.
During quiet time, she called me to her desk. "Shenitta," she said, prounouncing my name incorrectly, "Why didn't you answer the last question?"
"I couldn't find the answer, Mrs. Vega. It was 2. But 2 isn't on there," I replied.
Then Mrs. Vega laughed and told me that yes the answer was on the listed, but it was not two.
My cheeks began to flame, because by this time, other students had started to notice that something was going on, and that Mrs. Vega was laughing at me.
"Mrs. Vega, I don't know what the answer is. I thought it was 2, and I couldn't find it." At this point, I'm completely embarassed, almost to the point of tears because the other students were starting to catch on to my mistake. I hear a snicker, and I can't help but to drop my head in shame.
"Shenitta, look at me when I'm talking to you," she says, derisively. "Are you crying? Quit being a titty baby, the answer is on here." and she points to D.
I still don't understand. That isn't 2. But I KNOW the answer is 2.
She tells me to read D aloud to the class.
"D. none of the above," I say, crying at this point. Everyone laughs, and I am completely ashamed of myself. I have no idea what's going on, why everyone is laughing.
"Why didn't you pick that answer, you titty baby? 2 wasn't on there, so you should have circled that." she said, giggling.
Later that night, when I got home, I told my mom the story. She said that I should have chosen D. She said that since 2 wasn't listed, and the answer was none of the above, I should have circled D.
At this point, I realize my error. But I'm still so confused. Mrs. Vega knew the answer was 2. My mom knew the answer was 2. I knew the answer was 2. So why didn't she write 2 as D, instead of None of the above. I was right, but I got the answer wrong.
Lesson learned: Being right, doesn't always feel good. Other people don't care if you are right, they will still treat you like you are wrong. When the answers aren't provided, looking for them doesn't always mean that you will find them, or that the answers will even be available. Knowing the answer doesn't always help to make sense of the situation either.
Also, if one day, your child is distraught and tells you that the teacher laughed at them, and encouraged the other children to laugh as well, please set up a parent teacher conference.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Story of an Awkward Child
So.. I've been thinking. In order for people to want to follow me, and read my blog, they need to know a little about me....
So why not start at the beginning?
I'm originally from Arkansas. Flippin, Arkansas... Yes, I'm from Flippin, Arkansas. I have two brothers, I'm the oldest.
I was always an awkward girl in school, and I didn't make friends easily. One of my earliest memories from kindergarten in Arkansas was me accidentally kicking one of my more popular classmates in the face.
In the mornings, when we would arrive at school, my class, and other classes were sanctioned off in the gym on different colored mats. The kind that gymnasts use. Ours was a blue mat (our class was the blue class, we all had blue backpacks with our names, and blue ribbons that we had to wear, in case we were separated from our class). This more popular girl and I decided to play horsey, and I was performing my best back leg horsey kick. Finally my chance to fit in! Until I felt my foot connect to something solid. I turn around and her nose is bleeding and her lip was busted. Blood was running down her face. I was blacklisted for my remaining time in Flippin Elementary, which actually wasn't that long, considering I moved around 3 or 4 months after to Texas.
From this time on, I was a student at Orangefield Independant School District. My first day at Orangefield Elementary did not go so well. I arrived, and was frightened. As a child, I was painfully shy, and I knew that chances were, I would be picked on, and not make any friends. My intuition was correct.
At the end of class, while we waited for the school buses, we lined the hallways. I hugged my big blue backpack with my name on it. It smelled like home, and that's where I wanted to be. I noticed a girl across the hall was looking at me. It was a girl from my class.... Hmmm, what was her name? I couldn't remember. She just kept looking at me. I didn't know what was wrong... Was there something on my face?! Then she spoke up.
"Are you a boy?" she asked?
"NO!" I replied, confused as to why she would even ask this.
"Well," she says, as she raises her eyebrow, "your backpack is blue. Blue is a boy's color, so you must be a boy."
She then told everyone down the hall that I was a boy, not a girl. Everyone began to laugh as tears sprang to my eyes. I remembered her name, Ramona(name has been changed).
From then on, I was teased quite a few different times, to the point of tears, until I realized I was a loner. I didn't really have any friends, and I didn't really need them. I had a great imagination, and I was happy for the most part.
I didn't really make any real friends until the fourth grade, and it was definitely not because of any help from the teachers (I have another story I will be posting soon about a 1st grade incident where my teacher mortified me in front of all my classmates, and that sealed the deal for me not making friends).
In fourth grade, everyone in the class was paired up. Girls next to girls and boys next to boys. Except for me. I was next to a very shy quiet boy, who was pretty nice, actually, but still I was an outcast. One day, about halfway through the year, a new girl came to our class. She was a chubby little thing, and so cute! She had the curliest hair you had ever seen, and the teacher paired her up with me! Her name was Rachel (this is her real name, we are still friends, and I'm sure that she wouldn't mind me using it).
I was SO excited! This was my chance to make a friend who had not been influenced by others to think I was uncool! Until of course, Angelique (again name is changed) spoke up. She tried to monopolize Rachel's lunch time, asking her all sorts of questions about her school, and telling her all the cool and uncool things to do at our school.
We went back to class, and I was beginning to think that my fragile chance at making Rachel my best friend had shattered. We partnered up for an art assignment, and Rachel and I had some time to talk. We made up cartoon characters to popular songs, I guess parodies, I don't really technically know how to explain what we decided to do. Rachel started to draw some sort of triangle, and I told her it resembled a Nacho chip. And she told me to draw something on the triangle, so I drew some eyes and a mouth. She drew arms and legs. We called him Nacho Man. And then, of course we had an epiphany (the only sort you can have when you are 9 years old)! Nacho man sounds like Macho Man (does anyone actually remember the song, Macho Man by the Village People??) to us, this was hilarious. We began laughing so hard that tears came to our eyes as we sang, "Nacho, Nacho Man! I want to be a Nacho Man!" and until our teacher threatened to separate us.
At recess, Angelique walked up to Rachel and informed her of the most uncool thing to do at Orangefield, befriending me. Apparently, they (Angelique's followers) were willing to forgive Rachel for this innocent oversight.
Rachel, turned and looked at me and looked at Angelique, and then looked at me again. "It's ok," I muttered, "you can be their friend if you want."
Rachel turned back to Angelique, and to this day, I cannot ever remember a time when I was so surprised by such a mature decision from a 9 year old.
"She seems nice, and she's funny. I'm gonna be friends with her. If you don't want to be friends with us, then you're a butthead."
Immediately thereafter, Angelique told our teacher that Rachel called her a butt-head and Rachel was reprimanded, but it wasn't too severe/
To this day, Rachel and I are still friends. She is an amazing girl, and a steadfast friend through thick and thin.
For now, I need to retire for the night, but I will attempt to post again tomorrow about Junior High adventures, and maybe even my 1st grade teacher incident.
Thanks!
So why not start at the beginning?
I'm originally from Arkansas. Flippin, Arkansas... Yes, I'm from Flippin, Arkansas. I have two brothers, I'm the oldest.
I was always an awkward girl in school, and I didn't make friends easily. One of my earliest memories from kindergarten in Arkansas was me accidentally kicking one of my more popular classmates in the face.
In the mornings, when we would arrive at school, my class, and other classes were sanctioned off in the gym on different colored mats. The kind that gymnasts use. Ours was a blue mat (our class was the blue class, we all had blue backpacks with our names, and blue ribbons that we had to wear, in case we were separated from our class). This more popular girl and I decided to play horsey, and I was performing my best back leg horsey kick. Finally my chance to fit in! Until I felt my foot connect to something solid. I turn around and her nose is bleeding and her lip was busted. Blood was running down her face. I was blacklisted for my remaining time in Flippin Elementary, which actually wasn't that long, considering I moved around 3 or 4 months after to Texas.
From this time on, I was a student at Orangefield Independant School District. My first day at Orangefield Elementary did not go so well. I arrived, and was frightened. As a child, I was painfully shy, and I knew that chances were, I would be picked on, and not make any friends. My intuition was correct.
At the end of class, while we waited for the school buses, we lined the hallways. I hugged my big blue backpack with my name on it. It smelled like home, and that's where I wanted to be. I noticed a girl across the hall was looking at me. It was a girl from my class.... Hmmm, what was her name? I couldn't remember. She just kept looking at me. I didn't know what was wrong... Was there something on my face?! Then she spoke up.
"Are you a boy?" she asked?
"NO!" I replied, confused as to why she would even ask this.
"Well," she says, as she raises her eyebrow, "your backpack is blue. Blue is a boy's color, so you must be a boy."
She then told everyone down the hall that I was a boy, not a girl. Everyone began to laugh as tears sprang to my eyes. I remembered her name, Ramona(name has been changed).
From then on, I was teased quite a few different times, to the point of tears, until I realized I was a loner. I didn't really have any friends, and I didn't really need them. I had a great imagination, and I was happy for the most part.
I didn't really make any real friends until the fourth grade, and it was definitely not because of any help from the teachers (I have another story I will be posting soon about a 1st grade incident where my teacher mortified me in front of all my classmates, and that sealed the deal for me not making friends).
In fourth grade, everyone in the class was paired up. Girls next to girls and boys next to boys. Except for me. I was next to a very shy quiet boy, who was pretty nice, actually, but still I was an outcast. One day, about halfway through the year, a new girl came to our class. She was a chubby little thing, and so cute! She had the curliest hair you had ever seen, and the teacher paired her up with me! Her name was Rachel (this is her real name, we are still friends, and I'm sure that she wouldn't mind me using it).
I was SO excited! This was my chance to make a friend who had not been influenced by others to think I was uncool! Until of course, Angelique (again name is changed) spoke up. She tried to monopolize Rachel's lunch time, asking her all sorts of questions about her school, and telling her all the cool and uncool things to do at our school.
We went back to class, and I was beginning to think that my fragile chance at making Rachel my best friend had shattered. We partnered up for an art assignment, and Rachel and I had some time to talk. We made up cartoon characters to popular songs, I guess parodies, I don't really technically know how to explain what we decided to do. Rachel started to draw some sort of triangle, and I told her it resembled a Nacho chip. And she told me to draw something on the triangle, so I drew some eyes and a mouth. She drew arms and legs. We called him Nacho Man. And then, of course we had an epiphany (the only sort you can have when you are 9 years old)! Nacho man sounds like Macho Man (does anyone actually remember the song, Macho Man by the Village People??) to us, this was hilarious. We began laughing so hard that tears came to our eyes as we sang, "Nacho, Nacho Man! I want to be a Nacho Man!" and until our teacher threatened to separate us.
At recess, Angelique walked up to Rachel and informed her of the most uncool thing to do at Orangefield, befriending me. Apparently, they (Angelique's followers) were willing to forgive Rachel for this innocent oversight.
Rachel, turned and looked at me and looked at Angelique, and then looked at me again. "It's ok," I muttered, "you can be their friend if you want."
Rachel turned back to Angelique, and to this day, I cannot ever remember a time when I was so surprised by such a mature decision from a 9 year old.
"She seems nice, and she's funny. I'm gonna be friends with her. If you don't want to be friends with us, then you're a butthead."
Immediately thereafter, Angelique told our teacher that Rachel called her a butt-head and Rachel was reprimanded, but it wasn't too severe/
To this day, Rachel and I are still friends. She is an amazing girl, and a steadfast friend through thick and thin.
For now, I need to retire for the night, but I will attempt to post again tomorrow about Junior High adventures, and maybe even my 1st grade teacher incident.
Thanks!
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