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» Bullies
I was bullied by my school teacher.
My primary school was a CLASP system-build school, outdated even then in the early eighties. One of the problems with these schools is the walls aren't strong enough to hold the weight of a traditional blackboard (this was the eighties, remember). This particular school solved this problem by mounting the blackboards on huge great fuck-off wooden a-frames which could be wheeled around.
Now, this one teacher took a *real* dislike to me. Right at that pivotal moment in your emotional development when you're working out how to sustain friendships, this teacher decided an example had to be made. I don't know why.
She elected to move this a-frame monstrosity into the corner of the room, leaving a triangular floor space behind it. She then put a single desk there, jammed tight into the right angle corner of the room, so there was just enough space for a single chair between it and the back side of the blackboard.
And I had to sit there. For two years; P4 and P5 I had to sit with my back to the rest of the class. I was not allowed to interact with them, let alone even look at them.
This turned me into the offical class gimp. Object of ridicule and not to be interacted with. I spent my days jumping up and down from my chair to peer round the side of the blackboard to copy down whatever the old hag had written up there. All the time being made fun of by the rest of the class. I spent the breaks completely isolated; left to wander round and round the school building perimeter while others actually got to play with each other. I was the lesson, the cross on the hill; lest "it happen to you."
Why did she do this? I really don't know. I do recall I was bored shitless in her classes and could do the work way faster than anyone else. Perhaps this was her way of keeping me in my place, who knows.
Come the parent-teacher evenings and I was made out to be a right little shit; a disrupting influence on the rest of the class. Depsite this, I was still excelling academically and this kept my parents happy. They didn't care about anything other than academic achievement and I think the teacher played on their weakness.
I do know I can't keep a friend because of this period. I was robbed of the opportunity to learn how to do that. I became a social leper because of it and the reputation hung around until I left home at 16 to move to another city 200 miles away to try to start again. It was then that the cold, hard reality of not having leart how to interact with other people hit home. And it rocked me to my core. I realised just what impact those two years had. And they continue to do so now.
So thank you, Mrs. Forester. I hope you're dead by now. Or if not, growing old and senile. This is my defining memory of my childhood and I hate you for it.
(Wed 13th May 2009, 17:08, More)
I was bullied by my school teacher.
My primary school was a CLASP system-build school, outdated even then in the early eighties. One of the problems with these schools is the walls aren't strong enough to hold the weight of a traditional blackboard (this was the eighties, remember). This particular school solved this problem by mounting the blackboards on huge great fuck-off wooden a-frames which could be wheeled around.
Now, this one teacher took a *real* dislike to me. Right at that pivotal moment in your emotional development when you're working out how to sustain friendships, this teacher decided an example had to be made. I don't know why.
She elected to move this a-frame monstrosity into the corner of the room, leaving a triangular floor space behind it. She then put a single desk there, jammed tight into the right angle corner of the room, so there was just enough space for a single chair between it and the back side of the blackboard.
And I had to sit there. For two years; P4 and P5 I had to sit with my back to the rest of the class. I was not allowed to interact with them, let alone even look at them.
This turned me into the offical class gimp. Object of ridicule and not to be interacted with. I spent my days jumping up and down from my chair to peer round the side of the blackboard to copy down whatever the old hag had written up there. All the time being made fun of by the rest of the class. I spent the breaks completely isolated; left to wander round and round the school building perimeter while others actually got to play with each other. I was the lesson, the cross on the hill; lest "it happen to you."
Why did she do this? I really don't know. I do recall I was bored shitless in her classes and could do the work way faster than anyone else. Perhaps this was her way of keeping me in my place, who knows.
Come the parent-teacher evenings and I was made out to be a right little shit; a disrupting influence on the rest of the class. Depsite this, I was still excelling academically and this kept my parents happy. They didn't care about anything other than academic achievement and I think the teacher played on their weakness.
I do know I can't keep a friend because of this period. I was robbed of the opportunity to learn how to do that. I became a social leper because of it and the reputation hung around until I left home at 16 to move to another city 200 miles away to try to start again. It was then that the cold, hard reality of not having leart how to interact with other people hit home. And it rocked me to my core. I realised just what impact those two years had. And they continue to do so now.
So thank you, Mrs. Forester. I hope you're dead by now. Or if not, growing old and senile. This is my defining memory of my childhood and I hate you for it.
(Wed 13th May 2009, 17:08, More)
» Helicopter Parents
My mum's first child
died shortly after birth. I was the next one along after that.
Sometimes - as much as we hate it - there's a reason for their hovering. We can't blame them too much, because they can't help it.
(Sat 12th Sep 2009, 14:54, More)
My mum's first child
died shortly after birth. I was the next one along after that.
Sometimes - as much as we hate it - there's a reason for their hovering. We can't blame them too much, because they can't help it.
(Sat 12th Sep 2009, 14:54, More)