I recently learned that my art teacher from kindegarten/first grade days has finally retired. Thank goodness, as far as I am concerned she retired about 20 years to late. I think she should've quit teaching art before I had the displeasure of ever being a student of hers. I remember her clearly even though its been many years since I have seen her. she was this big hulk of a teacher, with long black hair with streaks of gray. I remember seeing her sit behind her black desk, with her boobs resting on the desk. If you are a women, you know what I mean. Sometimes it nice to just sit and rest your boobs and let something else support them because they are so heavy and cumbersome. She used to do that a lot.
When I was younger I was a bit shy and reserved, not much different than I am today, hmm that is a surprise. I was easily intimidated. Hmm, not much has changed in that regards either. One day she was giving us instructions and I didn't understand what we were to do, so I did it wrong. When she found out she told me I was stupid and the most untalented art student she had ever had. That just about crushed me. She may have been right, and the truth cut me to the core. I believed her and to this day, I cannot paint or draw to save my life. Even my stick figures are ugly and crooked. I hate art class, I resented her and I never wanted to ever be in her class again. I was very happy and relieved when my mother took me out of public school and put me in a small private church school. I shudder to think of how low my self esteem would be if I went to that public school for my whole childhood. If you think its' low now, what would it had been after 10 years of that kind of nonsence.
Fast forward 20 years later, I am raising my own family and have my own children. My youngest daughter, since her dad was forced to leave us by cps, has been sad, angry, withdrawing, sassy, and just plain negative. Its heartbreaking because she is usually loving, funny as heck, easy going and level headed. Alot of her behavior I attribute to what we are going through as a family. Some of it though I think is from school. There is a boy there who for one reason or another has decided to pick on her. Now I don't know if its because he likes her so he has to be obnoxious. They are in 3rd grade .... Any how last night she was going on about how she didn't want to wear a jacket out side because a coat doesn't look right on her body and how she is so ugly. Ugly is the last word I would use to describe her. She takes after her dad and looks a little like the pocahantus from the disney movie. It seems like he thinks she is ugly and she believes him. Why we believe only the negative crap that other people say to us is beyond me, but most of us do.
Then I think back to the supposed worse events in my life, the ones that I imagine the counselors would say I am in denial about. The ones that have made me whatever it is that I am today. The molestation I went through as a child. When I was five and six I didn't have many friends that I remember. I didn't live in a neighborhood where other kids were. I am seven years younger than my sister because I was an "accident". I didn't fit in school. I wasn't exactly picked on by other kids, more or less ignored. Can't say much as changed in that regards.
In the small Protestent church I went to, there was a boy there, he was six years older than me. He had dark black hair and red cheeks. His cheeks always looked red, but would get even brighter red when he was mad.
He used to come and play with me after school. We would play with matchbox cars in the mud, and he would push me around in a wagon, really fast. I would steer it as we zoomed all over the yard. In the winter we would go sledding. He would make jumps or we would go over big rocks and fly through the air. I had a lot of fun hanging out with him and since he was older, that made it even better. He was "cool" in my mind. I don't think we did a lot of talking, just playing. Sometimes I would go over to his house and we would watch fraggle rock or play some archiac video game. This is the early eighties so we didn't have much for video games.
I don't remember exact dates about what happened. It all just seems to blur together. I think one summer day we were bored and he wanted to go across the street where an old barn was. I believe this barn used to be a part of a camp for kids, but I don't know for sure. It was abanoned. I remember in the lower part of the barn, the basement like area, had porn magazines down there. My sister and brother showed me one time.
I knew that I was not allowed to cross the road, that was off limits, but I let him talk me into it. "Its okay, you won't get into trouble, I will look out for you, your parents won't mind because you are with me." So I went with him and that was when he did something, but whatever it was I don't recall because I blocked it out. I remember him zipping up his pants and telling me to zip up my pants. Nothing happened after that, we went home and played some more. I was uncomfortable about the situation and curious about how I could "float away in my head" when something happened that I didn't like. I find that fascinating.
Time went by. We never talked about that day or anything. Winter came around, and he started to ask me to kiss him. It was something I didn't want to do. I was never much of a kisser or a hugger growing up. For what ever reason, I have always had trouble showing affection for others. Not that I didn't want to be able to give hugs and be loving, it has always been hard for me. Just like I would like to be friendly and outgoing but my fear stops me. My fear keeps me from showing affection as well. So him wanting kisses may have been an innocent thing. I don't know. It was nothing major, he just wanted little kisses on the cheek. At first I gave them to him, but then he wanted more and he wouldn't let me go inside until I had given him a kiss. One day I was cold and wanted to go inside and he was saying no you have to kiss me first. I saw his mother and told her. "he wont let me go inside unless I kiss him, tell him to stop, its not fun anymore." Well that was the end of that friendship. I don't know what kind of trouble he got in. I don't know what happened, just he stopped coming over to play and afterwards he didn't have much to do with me, even when my parents started to send me to the same one roomed church school that he was in already. I didn't understand why he stopped liking me.
What I do remember is when I was in the third grade (that's when I switched from public school to the church school) he kept getting into trouble a lot that year. The teacher would make misbehaving students do "air chairs" and not just for a few minutes but 30 mins to an hour. That was probably a pretty painful punishment. Sometimes he would also draw a circle on the chalk board and you had to stand on your tiptoes and keep your nose in that circle. I never had to be punished so I don't kow what it was like. Finally one day he got fed up with the punishments and he climbed out the bathroom window. I was pretty impressed how he managed to make it to the tree outside the window and escape, without getting hurt. I never saw him or his mother again after that. I believe the school board expelled him. Years later just after my daughter was born I saw him again briefly. I didn't say much to him because I was resentful that my husband was in jail for a sexual offense that was less than the stuff that I imagined happened to me and here he was at my sisters house like nothing ever happened.
Some interesting similiarities between him and my husband. They both have black hair. They both were adopted and they both have been accused of sexual misconduct at some point in their lives. They both showed me love and friendship and filled a void in my life.
So what happening had more impact on my life? The art teacher or my childhood friend? What hurt the most? I can tell you that the art teacher is someone that I have disliked ever since that day in her classroom. I am still angry about how she treated me. My childhood friend, I am torn about. I don't like what he did, but I regret how it ended. I wish in retrospect that some adult could have seen that he needed help and knew what kind of help would be best for him. I wish we had stayed friends at least for a little bit longer. I wish I could talk to him today about what happened and ask why he did it, and why he stopped being my friend.
When I was younger I was a bit shy and reserved, not much different than I am today, hmm that is a surprise. I was easily intimidated. Hmm, not much has changed in that regards either. One day she was giving us instructions and I didn't understand what we were to do, so I did it wrong. When she found out she told me I was stupid and the most untalented art student she had ever had. That just about crushed me. She may have been right, and the truth cut me to the core. I believed her and to this day, I cannot paint or draw to save my life. Even my stick figures are ugly and crooked. I hate art class, I resented her and I never wanted to ever be in her class again. I was very happy and relieved when my mother took me out of public school and put me in a small private church school. I shudder to think of how low my self esteem would be if I went to that public school for my whole childhood. If you think its' low now, what would it had been after 10 years of that kind of nonsence.
Fast forward 20 years later, I am raising my own family and have my own children. My youngest daughter, since her dad was forced to leave us by cps, has been sad, angry, withdrawing, sassy, and just plain negative. Its heartbreaking because she is usually loving, funny as heck, easy going and level headed. Alot of her behavior I attribute to what we are going through as a family. Some of it though I think is from school. There is a boy there who for one reason or another has decided to pick on her. Now I don't know if its because he likes her so he has to be obnoxious. They are in 3rd grade .... Any how last night she was going on about how she didn't want to wear a jacket out side because a coat doesn't look right on her body and how she is so ugly. Ugly is the last word I would use to describe her. She takes after her dad and looks a little like the pocahantus from the disney movie. It seems like he thinks she is ugly and she believes him. Why we believe only the negative crap that other people say to us is beyond me, but most of us do.
Then I think back to the supposed worse events in my life, the ones that I imagine the counselors would say I am in denial about. The ones that have made me whatever it is that I am today. The molestation I went through as a child. When I was five and six I didn't have many friends that I remember. I didn't live in a neighborhood where other kids were. I am seven years younger than my sister because I was an "accident". I didn't fit in school. I wasn't exactly picked on by other kids, more or less ignored. Can't say much as changed in that regards.
In the small Protestent church I went to, there was a boy there, he was six years older than me. He had dark black hair and red cheeks. His cheeks always looked red, but would get even brighter red when he was mad.
He used to come and play with me after school. We would play with matchbox cars in the mud, and he would push me around in a wagon, really fast. I would steer it as we zoomed all over the yard. In the winter we would go sledding. He would make jumps or we would go over big rocks and fly through the air. I had a lot of fun hanging out with him and since he was older, that made it even better. He was "cool" in my mind. I don't think we did a lot of talking, just playing. Sometimes I would go over to his house and we would watch fraggle rock or play some archiac video game. This is the early eighties so we didn't have much for video games.
I don't remember exact dates about what happened. It all just seems to blur together. I think one summer day we were bored and he wanted to go across the street where an old barn was. I believe this barn used to be a part of a camp for kids, but I don't know for sure. It was abanoned. I remember in the lower part of the barn, the basement like area, had porn magazines down there. My sister and brother showed me one time.
I knew that I was not allowed to cross the road, that was off limits, but I let him talk me into it. "Its okay, you won't get into trouble, I will look out for you, your parents won't mind because you are with me." So I went with him and that was when he did something, but whatever it was I don't recall because I blocked it out. I remember him zipping up his pants and telling me to zip up my pants. Nothing happened after that, we went home and played some more. I was uncomfortable about the situation and curious about how I could "float away in my head" when something happened that I didn't like. I find that fascinating.
Time went by. We never talked about that day or anything. Winter came around, and he started to ask me to kiss him. It was something I didn't want to do. I was never much of a kisser or a hugger growing up. For what ever reason, I have always had trouble showing affection for others. Not that I didn't want to be able to give hugs and be loving, it has always been hard for me. Just like I would like to be friendly and outgoing but my fear stops me. My fear keeps me from showing affection as well. So him wanting kisses may have been an innocent thing. I don't know. It was nothing major, he just wanted little kisses on the cheek. At first I gave them to him, but then he wanted more and he wouldn't let me go inside until I had given him a kiss. One day I was cold and wanted to go inside and he was saying no you have to kiss me first. I saw his mother and told her. "he wont let me go inside unless I kiss him, tell him to stop, its not fun anymore." Well that was the end of that friendship. I don't know what kind of trouble he got in. I don't know what happened, just he stopped coming over to play and afterwards he didn't have much to do with me, even when my parents started to send me to the same one roomed church school that he was in already. I didn't understand why he stopped liking me.
What I do remember is when I was in the third grade (that's when I switched from public school to the church school) he kept getting into trouble a lot that year. The teacher would make misbehaving students do "air chairs" and not just for a few minutes but 30 mins to an hour. That was probably a pretty painful punishment. Sometimes he would also draw a circle on the chalk board and you had to stand on your tiptoes and keep your nose in that circle. I never had to be punished so I don't kow what it was like. Finally one day he got fed up with the punishments and he climbed out the bathroom window. I was pretty impressed how he managed to make it to the tree outside the window and escape, without getting hurt. I never saw him or his mother again after that. I believe the school board expelled him. Years later just after my daughter was born I saw him again briefly. I didn't say much to him because I was resentful that my husband was in jail for a sexual offense that was less than the stuff that I imagined happened to me and here he was at my sisters house like nothing ever happened.
Some interesting similiarities between him and my husband. They both have black hair. They both were adopted and they both have been accused of sexual misconduct at some point in their lives. They both showed me love and friendship and filled a void in my life.
So what happening had more impact on my life? The art teacher or my childhood friend? What hurt the most? I can tell you that the art teacher is someone that I have disliked ever since that day in her classroom. I am still angry about how she treated me. My childhood friend, I am torn about. I don't like what he did, but I regret how it ended. I wish in retrospect that some adult could have seen that he needed help and knew what kind of help would be best for him. I wish we had stayed friends at least for a little bit longer. I wish I could talk to him today about what happened and ask why he did it, and why he stopped being my friend.
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