This Is Where I Butt In

From the Chicago Tribune:

6-year-old suspended after mother refuses to spank him for numerous disciplinary infractions; instead she yanks him from school

This gets personal for me.

I started out loving school. I adored my first or second grade teacher. My third grade, if I figured it out right, was the '67/'68 school year, my world went straight to hell.

You have to bear with me, I don't remember it first person. When Mama would tell it, and I imagine her memory was alive and vivid, it would always start by her trying to tell my third grade teacher how best to teach me. She got the "are YOU a teacher?" speech.

One day, I came home crying. Mama was still at work, and this was when Grandma was living with us. I had been spanked for not finishing my work. I don't think it was just once, but I just don't remember. I told Grandma what happened, and I guess, Mama, when she got home. I have never seen my Mother so angry, either before or afterwards. An anger that would never die. The anger you see when you come between a polar bear and her cub. So, yeah, she kind of ripped the principal and the teacher ( I think her name was Mrs. Dickenson) a new one.

It effected the rest of my life. It caused my first depression. It would last until I was around 20/21. I got fat. I went way beyond just being shy. School for me was over. I wasn't stupid enough to drop out, but it was kinda like being in prison. I don't think I did a lick of homework ever again. I would fake stomache aches every now and then to get out of school (God knows how Mama knew it was real when I got appendicitis).

I can still tick off everything that went through my child's mind.

• Even though Mama constantly told me how good I was, or pretty or whatever - I didn't believe a word of it. Parents are supposed to say things like that.
• I adored and envied my sister. She was prettier than me, smarter than me, thinner than me, outgoing. I just plain wanted to be her. I tried to be her, and did a piss poor job of it.
• I just didn't fit in with anybody in my family, or extended family (except for Grandma). Mama, Daddy, and my sister all had brown eyes, I have green. They were thin and I was fat (Daddy didn't count on this one). They were smart and I was dumb. They were talkative and I was shy.

I felt like a big disappointment.
I knew my parents did everything in their power to try to make me happy. Did they do too much? Did they make my life too safe? Well, in the scheme of things, probably. But I don't think they felt like they had a choice.

Oh, and about Grandma, she was the ONE person I could be myself with, and being myself was ok.