I Love to Write
Capricorn in Aquarius - Part Two
This was an ongoing ritual that continued every school day. It didn't take the kids long to figure out if my daddy had to strongarm me into the classroom, then hang around and talk to the teacher, it was some sort of ongoing punishment and they began to tease me about "bein' a baby" and "bein' walked". One day, a kid even left a Pampers on my desk as a branded insult. Where he or she got it from, I didn't know or care; I turned fire-engine red and stuffed it into my bookbag before Daddy could comment. Nobody admitted to it, either. If Daddy wanted to embarrass me in front of everyone, he did it royally.
If Daddy wasn't precisely at the curb at three in the afternoon and I had to walk down the long front sidewalk to wait, the kids ganged up on me and taunted me all the more. I told them all to go to hell (as long as my father still wasn't there to hear it).I didn't like one kid in that room, and what's more is, they all KNEW it. They laughed and ran away.
I had to go to my room and do my homework until dinnertime. I was sent to bed an hour earlier than I had been going while I was alone with Mom. The next day was a rerun.
Despite my picked-up attendance, I was still a poor student. Somewhere, someplace in the those truanted days, I had missed several days of instruction and the teacher had it in for me besides. I got used to seeing exam papers marked "Poor work" or a low grade on red ink on their return. At the end of the year, my report card was so bad, the school wanted me to repeat first grade.
No, Daddy said. Absolutely not. His daughter was going somewhere else where she could be promoted with the rest of the kids. Over the summer, I transferred to the only other local public school. Where I met Mari...
Thoughts of Mari brought fresh tears. I threw myself on my bed and began to cry again in abandon.
(To Be Continued.)
This was an ongoing ritual that continued every school day. It didn't take the kids long to figure out if my daddy had to strongarm me into the classroom, then hang around and talk to the teacher, it was some sort of ongoing punishment and they began to tease me about "bein' a baby" and "bein' walked". One day, a kid even left a Pampers on my desk as a branded insult. Where he or she got it from, I didn't know or care; I turned fire-engine red and stuffed it into my bookbag before Daddy could comment. Nobody admitted to it, either. If Daddy wanted to embarrass me in front of everyone, he did it royally.
If Daddy wasn't precisely at the curb at three in the afternoon and I had to walk down the long front sidewalk to wait, the kids ganged up on me and taunted me all the more. I told them all to go to hell (as long as my father still wasn't there to hear it).I didn't like one kid in that room, and what's more is, they all KNEW it. They laughed and ran away.
I had to go to my room and do my homework until dinnertime. I was sent to bed an hour earlier than I had been going while I was alone with Mom. The next day was a rerun.
Despite my picked-up attendance, I was still a poor student. Somewhere, someplace in the those truanted days, I had missed several days of instruction and the teacher had it in for me besides. I got used to seeing exam papers marked "Poor work" or a low grade on red ink on their return. At the end of the year, my report card was so bad, the school wanted me to repeat first grade.
No, Daddy said. Absolutely not. His daughter was going somewhere else where she could be promoted with the rest of the kids. Over the summer, I transferred to the only other local public school. Where I met Mari...
Thoughts of Mari brought fresh tears. I threw myself on my bed and began to cry again in abandon.
(To Be Continued.)
61-69, F