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#302911 - 01/31/08 04:25 PM Re: Gym Class Follies. [Re: TheDegenerate]
TrojZyr Offline
CoS Witch

Registered: 07/25/01
Posts: 12990
Loc: The Solid State
Highlights and memories (elementary school):

*Early elementary school, first go-round: Every playground inevitably has places that you aren't supposed to go, because they are dangerous, and because the teachers can't see you there. Naturally, these were the places I loved the best, because they were quiet, private, wild (because no one bothered to trim the plants and mow the grass in these areas), and, of course, forbidden.

One of these places was an ivy-overgrown alley between two little cottage-like buildings at the far end of the playground. Whenever I walked in this alley, I felt as though I was just entering into an enchanted forest. One winter, I stood in this alley, studying the ice that had frozen around the dead ivy vines, and admiring my own grey puffs of undulating liquid breath.

One spring, I went into my beloved ivy alley as usual, and another kid followed me in. He began to berate me about being there, because it wasn't allowed. Then, behind him, in the distance, I saw the teacher. As the kid whined and begged and lectured, I pressed myself deep into the ivy and waited. The teacher appeared suddenly in the entrance of the alley. She told the boy no one was allowed there, and whisked him away, while he babbled and kvetched.

This was also the playground where a boy and his mates spent a whole day trying to steal the hood of my coat. We'd been building little models of the Navajo burial space in class, and I nonchalantly told the boy that when he died, he was definitely going to Hell. I didn't mean this in a particularly malicious or mean way; I was just being honest. He was an annoying boy who got on the teacher's nerves a lot. So, at recess, he decided to get back at me. I spent much of that recess reluctantly clinging to the mother of one of my friends, who was none the wiser. She had bright, frizzy red hair and smoochy, blood-red lips. Sometimes, I'd wander away, and the boy would come back with his friends, ready to steal my hood, and I'd run back to the woman. I didn't take it personally, because it was an interesting challenge for me. Eventually, my hood fell off of its own accord after being yanked at, and when my mom noticed I didn't have it on me when she picked me up, she went to look for it, and found it hanging in a bush.

My second elementary school had two main forbidden places. One was behind a shed at the far end of the playground, the other was behind a long and grassy berm along the fence. I liked to go crush rocks into powder and clover leaves into mush with big stones behind the shed, pretending to be a witch or a medicine woman. I really loved the little ditch behind the berm, because it was much deeper than it looked from the outside, and it was wild and lush and grassy, and filled with plants that grew nowhere else on the playground. One day, I decided that I was going to build a lean-to there, and "live" there forevermore.

A girl in my class told me to stop going there, because it was dangerous, and said she'd have to tell the teacher if I kept it up. I figured I'd been caught, so one day I went to disassemble my lean-to, the girl saw me, and she tattled. I spent the rest of the recess sitting at one of the naughty tables.

Offhand, I can think of maybe 5 recesses I had to spend there, and many more recesses that I hung out there of my own free will, because one friend of mine was always getting into trouble. Each kind of situation required its own response.

Now, when I was sent to the naughty table, I didn't want to give the teacher any satisfaction, so I always made a very deliberate point of stretching myself out on the benches in a loose and lazy way, and pretending that I was absolutely loving the sun and adoring the view. I didn't mope and I didn't scowl. If a teacher looked at me, I smiled. I felt very proud of myself for being such a grand actor and so strong in the face of attempted torture.

If you're friend's at the naughty table, you have to be sneaky. The table doesn't have visiting hours, after all. I'd have to wait until the teachers were looking elsewhere, and then wander over in a wide circle, sit low on the other side of the table, and talk quickly, while watching the teachers closely. If the teachers got jumpy, I would get up, made another big circle, and come back.

Besides being sent to the naughty table for going where I shouldn't have, I also ended up there at least a couple of times for "disobedience" or having a "smart mouth" (but I didn't always understand what I'd done wrong), and once in 5th grade for not singing during during our class' performance in the assembly. That morning, my class had gotten up and sung a bunch of songs in Latin, while wearing cute little bedsheet togas. Besides not really knowing the words very well, I kept having problems with my toga. I think I spent most of the performance mouthing a few words, and then trying to quietly and subtly keep my toga on, because I was sure my teacher was going to pitch a fit if I did any kind of strip tease, accidental or not. Later, the teacher yanked me aside, told me she'd seen that I hadn't been singing, and sentenced me to a full recess at the table. I wanted to tell her that she shouldn't have been watching *me* for the whole thing anyway, because it was creepy of her, rude to me, and rude to my classmates, but by 5th grade, I'd learned a thing or two about keeping my mouth shut, especially around this lady, because she absolutely hated me, and used any minor infraction as an excuse to blow up and accuse me of full-blown disobedience and rebellion. Seriously, this was the lady who called in the principal because my thermos leaked, because she was sure I was doing it deliberately.

I have more stories about her, and another teacher or two, but that's for another day, perhaps.
"Gentlemen, the verdict is guilty, on all ten counts of first-degree stupidity. The penalty phase will now begin."--Divine, "Pink Flamingos."

"The strong rule the weak, and the cunning rule over all." HS!

#302916 - 01/31/08 04:45 PM Re: A blast from the were you treated in School? [Re: Evil_Eve]
Maqlu Offline
CoS Member

Registered: 03/10/07
Posts: 1673
I was bored and I couldn't wait to get out of there. I would draw in class when I already knew the material being lectured on. Most of my teachers were just glad to have someone who understood the material and didn't care but, of course, some teachers got pissed off with this. Seems kind of stupid to me - if I know the material and I'm getting good marks, what difference does it make if I'm doodling in my book versus staring straight ahead and zoning out while it gets repeated ad nauseum for the rest of the class?

This was a problem even in my art class in Grade 12, where the instructor had 3 different years in one period (Art 10, 11, 12) and we all had to do the same dumb assignments and not work on our own things. This when the Art 12 students were supposed to be preparing portfolios for art school admission! I dropped that class for a study break, and while I obviously couldn't paint in the library, I got way more useful drawing work done hiding in the corner desk there than in the actual art class. \:\/

I hated high school at the time, but now when I look back on it it wasn't too bad. I was probably more popular than I realized, being friends with the nerds and the art freaks, but also with a few of the cheerleaders and the jocks. And of course the metalheads.

I got some ribbing, but nothing too terrible, and mostly the kids who picked on me were the ones desperately trying to be popular but who really weren't, and I guess they hated me because I was good at everything and I was friends with the popular girls without really caring one way or the other.

Elementary school was living hell, however, especially the four years spent in Catholic private school. Being the first to grow boobs sucks in a patriachical, misogynist system where the boys who harassed me were given carte blanche but where I got a week's detention for throwing a snowball at one of them when he just wouldn't leave me alone.

I skipped an awful lot of school during those years by pretending to be sick so I could stay home and read.

I still wouldn't mind opening the paper to see a headline about that school having been blown up. A gal can dream, right?

Back in public school, Grade 6 was much better with a really great teacher, but then Grade 7 saw me stuck in a psycho evangelist bitch's class. The only good thing about that was that her health was terrible and we often had subs.

#303028 - 02/01/08 01:27 AM The past, but not always a blast [Re: Evil_Eve]
RandomStranger Offline
CoS Warlock

Registered: 03/09/05
Posts: 2770
Loc: Here.
I was very quiet during m short time in public high school. I got picked on a lot too. Going to the woods to explore under rotting logs and poking around the streams in northern Virginia were much more appealing to me and I was always thinking about my next adventure outdoors. I had no desire to fit in, just the desire to be left alone. I was always bigger than my "peers" so not being noticed was difficult.

In one of my classes, the teacher would pick on me because of my California accent, whatever that was, and she turned her back when the 3 bullies in class would walk by me and punch my arm. There were bruises on my biceps that stung constantly. I was ashamed. One day without really any warning, I changed. It occurred to me that I was indeed bigger than most of those clods and had to do something. After getting laughed at and punched in the arm again, and the teacher doing nothing, I got up in the middle of class and punched one of the bullies in the face. His glasses flew across the room and he cried.

The harassment stopped immediately. Imagine that.

I hated that place with every cell in my body.

Then I went to boarding school and everything was different. It was an opportunity to rework how people saw me. With the hell of public school behind me, I could pursue the things that interested me. We were all under scrutiny and there was very little opportunity for people to be bullies or slack-offs. Sure there were assholes but they were much easier to deal with. The biggest difference from public school, aside from the fact that I didn't have to live at my public school, was that I was respected. It was a great experience and I met some of the closest friends I've ever had.

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