I believe we have the ability to choose how our early life lessons impact our lives. Even sad or scary memories can become positive guide posts we can use along the way.
The year I turned eight years old was an eventful time in my life. I entered 3rd grade still hating school. I was not 'growing out' of my stuttering as predicted by a select few.
I met my oldest and dearest friend Ann that year, so I spent a little less time dreading my time spent in school.
On this particular winter school day, I remember feeling happy as I talked with May, the little girl who sat one seat over. We were both startled when our teacher, Miss Price almost yelled at us to be quiet. Both May and I were usually well behaved, so we were both shaken by the outburst and embarrassed by the giggles of the other children.
For some reason that I have yet to understand, I felt responsible for us getting in trouble. I decided to write May a note asking her if she was mad at me. I carefully folded the tiny piece of paper and gave it to Ken, the boy who sat next to me, to pass to May.
To my horror, he jumped up from his seat and took the note directly to Miss Price!
I was immediately called to the front of the room and given several hard pops with the wide leather strap that she keep on her desk.
Of course, I was mortified, and the whipping hurt,,a lot.
I refused to cry. I think maybe I was simply too angry to allow my tears to flow.
I did not believe I deserved a whipping; I still do not believe the punishment fit the 'crime'.
On the way back to my seat, I looked at the smile on Ken's face and wanted to knock him out of his chair. And in case you are wondering, whenever I see him, I can still see the smirk on his face.
I should probably pray about that.
As I sat in my seat, filled with more embarrassment, wounded feelings and a throbbing behind, I wished Miss Price would just disappear.
I made it through the day, and the 'fussin' I got from Momma, who of course, knew Miss Price well enough to be on her side. At least, that is how I felt at the time.
The next morning, Miss Price was not at her desk when we entered our room. The class was unattended long enough for the boys to be running wild by the time the teacher from next door finally came to check on us.
We knew something was off, because she did not yell at the boys jumping around the room. We soon realized that she was crying.
She tearfully informed us that Miss Price had died during the night.
I was instantly filled with guilt. I was certain that it was my fault she was dead.
Well, I had to be since I wanted her to disappear.
By the time I got home, more details were available.
Poor Miss Price, who lived alone, had died while sitting in front of her space heater. I remember feeling sick when we were told that her legs were burned during the night.
With my imagination, I had many nights of scary images of her sitting in her chair with charred legs.
I cannot begin to explain my 8 year old feelings. I felt sad, guilty and very much afraid.
After crying alone, I finally told Momma that it was my fault. Her assurances that my being mad at her would not cause her horrible death, fell on deaf ears..
It took me many years to believe my mother's words.
The funeral for Miss Price was quite grand. It was in the huge elaborate high school auditorium and since we were her class, we had to sit up front with her casket.
We sat there for hours.
I was scared to death, and almost felt punished enough for my thoughts.
Almost.
I have purposely blocked out the rest of my 3rd grade school year. I have tried in vain to remember the name of the teacher who took over our class.
I will have to ask Ann, who is still my dearest friend.
No matter what type of grief a person causes me, or how wrong I know they are, I never wish for revenge of any kind.
Not even in the form of dark thoughts.
I will never forget the pain and weight of the guilt I felt as that little girl.
I understand that the thoughts of a child can do little harm..
Except to that child.
The power of words and expression can be negative or positive.
I made the choice to seek the positive path, all those years ago.
Lesson learned..
No comments:
Post a Comment