In kindergarten I was the only one who could read and would read to the rest of the class at reading time.
We had an outdoor concrete playground all our own. The rest of the school had their playground in the back of the school.
We had nap time, too and I remember we each had a mat on which to lay down.
Everyone else did exactly as they were told and was happily napping but I just couldn’t. The teachers finally just got smart and told me, okay it’s QUIET time. I can’t remember if they let me read or what but “quiet” I could do.
At lunch, for dessert, which were ice cream cups, we had to take whatever flavor we were given. The kid in front of me said he was allergic to vanilla so got one of the few chocolate cups left. I thought Hmmm. I actually preferred vanilla.
I contemplated saying I was allergic to chocolate – learning from the boy – but instead told the teacher the simple truth (and hoped for the best); I like vanilla.
I think she thought I was being kind. She gladly gave me the vanilla.
The next year, I was the experienced one and so was asked to take our neighbor, a year younger, to school. Imagine! At 6 years old, I was the “old head” , walking a 5 year old half a mile to school crossing four city streets, one major one. I have a photo of me on my tricycle and he on the back standing up.
The first day of school, at recess, I showed our little neighbor around. I had to go to the girls’ room so I positioned him outside and reassured him, I’d just be inside, if he had a problem just open the door and call in. I’d be right out but had to go.
I get into the stall and just about to pull – when in he rushes yelling my name in a panic.
I take him back outside, position him against the wall, reassure him – he could see I wasn’t far and that I responded quickly.
I went in, did what I had to do as quickly as possible, came outside, and he was……GONE. YIKES! I looked all over for him and just before the bell to go back to class, I found him with another classmate. I told him he could have let me know – called inside or something.
We were the best in 1st grade. We’d get problems on the board and we’d race to the teacher’s desk to be first to have her grade our tests. The first seven got red crayons to correct the other classmates’ tests – the biggest honor. I remember once, I got one wrong so had to rush back to my desk, correct it, and get in line again. I kept counting to see if I was within seven – if two of the eight in front of me might get one wrong, too, and I had a chance.
I usually was first to finish and my little friend was second – or ran more slowly – he never became an athlete. One time I think he was seated 15′ behind me so I had the advantage.
Some time early into the year, a bully from the sixth grade for some reason had it in for me. I have no idea why, had never spoken or interacted with him, but I did have two brothers in school, one in sixth grade. Who knows where they were and why they didn’t protect me. Maybe the sixth grader brother had annoyed this guy and was hiding, letting me be the target.
I remember running from the bully on the concrete playground, falling and scraping my knee – I still have the scar – right in front of some black girls double jump roping. The sixth grade bully came at me for the kill. I think I just braced myself as I tried to figure an escape with my bleeding, badly hurting, knee. Next thing I knew I was surrounded by big black girls yelling at the bully and about to thump him. I was forever grateful. He never bothered me again.
One of them must have taken me to the school nurse. Later, they tried to teach me double jump rope but I couldn’t quite get it – I was nervous at letting them down and taking up too much of their time and in my mind, goodwill. So I watched and I took turns doing the rope turning.
Every day. At recess. On the concrete playground.
For the rest of the year.
I guess I was pretty good at the turning – they let me hang out with them – even though my feet apparently could not pick up their rhythm.
I left the next year. If any of those girls are reading this: THANK YOU!
We need more people like you standing up to bullies especially for those less able or little, as I was.
c. GCYI