Good Ol' Golden Rule Days
2004-09-16, 10:38 a.m.

Thursday's fortune, the most horrific one yet.

Take a moment to remember fourth grade.

I did. Now I'm recovering.

That was the most horrible grade of my entire schooling, the most horrible year of my life. Teacher From Hell. She made sure I remained in trouble for doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING and traumatized me to no end, ensuring that I sealed off the shell in which I had already begun to hide. Sensitive, quiet, and debilitatingly shy in those days (please pass the Prozac), I would have moved mountains rather than do anything to displease the educational powers-that-be. Getting called down equalled personality-crushing capital punishment for me. I behaved properly to the point of obsessiveness, afraid of my own shadow. I NEVER got in trouble at home and had always been a "good child" at school. So, being "disciplined" consistently for nonexistent infractions threw me into shell shock from which I didn't emerge until college. No she wasn't the sole source of my overwhelming insecurities, but she was the proverbial nail in the coffin. Thank you, Mrs. L, for providing my personal tales of this fourth grade nothing.

Yes, I heard my friends snort sarcastically when I referred to myself as "shy" and "quiet". I know, I know, anything but. Now. Growing up, even in high school, I was so intimidated by others (even perfectly nice others) that at times I would step outside the school building rather than have to greet those that I had known since preschool. I couldn't even say "Hi" without some sort of envisioned social faux pas, an anxiety attack. If I spoke to you back then, be certain that inside I was positive that I was doing it wrong and the next moment I was going to fall over dead. What stopped it?

College.

Going away to someplace new, someplace where nobody knew me or would have any preconceived notions. A place where I was free to, at last, be me. Take me or leave me, here I am. They took me.

So, was all of this Mrs. L's fault? Of course not. It was a combination of nature and environment and my own doing that produced years of devastating shyness and insecurity. She sure didn't help. Sticks and stones may break bones, but words and vindictive deeds produce scars on the soul of a child that can take a lot of time, thought, and intestinal fortitude to overcome. Others had the strength back then to get over her crap. I didn't.

:::::::::rolling off of virtual psychiatrist's couch:::::::::::

Daughter's first fourth grade experience wasn't much better. She got mono. When one runs a fever and is exhausted by simply getting through a meal, with the fever and fatigue lasting months and not days, one tends to miss a bit of school. She missed a total of 41 days. Her schoolwork suffered. (DUH) Hey, educators, if they're TOO SICK TO GO TO SCHOOL, then what makes you think they can JUST DO IT AT HOME INSTEAD???? Of course she couldn't do all her make-up work. She could barely get out of bed. To make a long story short, she repeated fourth grade, at a different school, and had a very good experience. Daughter steamrolled right ahead into 5th grade and shows no signs of slowing down. Woe be to those in her way, shy and retiring she ain't. I hope she blasts her way through like a fireworks display, bright and noticeable and loud and fun, and drags everyone else into the party.

Shy and quiet, just like her mother.

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