Becky Says...

March 8, 2001

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Thoughts on School Years

I hear of people committing violent acts in schools, and I hurt for them as well as for their victims. I have said before that I hated school, and that I got picked on. I thought I'd tell you more about it.

All through grade school (well, from fifth grade on; before that it wasn't so bad) I was fat, smart, and a teacher's child. I also was an only child, used to spending a lot of time with adults, and doing things alone---like playing the piano and reading whatever captured my attention.

My mother was the only teacher in the high school whose child was a student there. So I also got the whammy in high school of people trying to suck up to me thinking they would get better grades from her. And one by one, when they realized it wouldn't help a bit, they decided picking on me was the way to go. Nobody ever was physically violent to me, but the emotional garbage can still come back to the front pretty easily when memories get triggered. I'd like to think I'm over the grudges, but there are days I'm not sure of that! There are a couple of people I was in school with that I consider friends, but for the most part, I was a solitary person.

I did try, occasionally, to fit in. I smoked, for one thing. But my mother knew I smoked, which was unusual---and made me not fit in with that, either.

At one point in high school, we were assigned to write an essay on the "generation gap," a popular phrase that was supposed to mean the gap in thought between the kids and the parents. Mine, however, took a different tack. I identified more strongly with the parents. So my piece was about having a generation gap with my own generation. And that's how it was.

In retrospect, it's interesting, and probably very self-centered, that when I was going through it, it never dawned on me that anyone else was suffering anything similar. Most of the high-school horror stories I heard in those days were of the "I failed my test because I couldn't spell cat!" variety, and I couldn't relate to that at all.

Looking back on it, I can laugh at the stupidity of the people involved. One way these people would try to harrass me was by saying that I only got good grades because my mother got the other teachers to give them to me. If that was true, she sure did a lousy job with the geometry teacher.

In an attempt to get far away from that sort of garbage, I made plans to go away to college. Carolina was a great school, and is today. But I had no business going there fresh from high school. If I hadn't been running away, I would have stayed closer to home and gone to a community college for a couple of years, to at least get some academic experience before attempting to live on a college campus.

At some point during college, I was home on vacation, and a friend's mother made the remark that those of us who were now out of high school would look back on our high school days with fond memories and realize they were the best years of our lives. At the time, I remember being horrified at the thought that anyone would consider those the best years of my life. I had a lot of hope things would get better.

I have always had an optimistic streak, for some reason. If things are good, I am optimistic they will stay good. If things are bad, I am optimistic they'll get better. And these years after high school have been better. I believe my friend's mother meant that school years didn't carry with them the burdens of adult life. And in that, her point was valid. But I'll take my life today, complete with any problems I might have, over the school years.

It is my absolute hope that anyone contemplating violence will think of another way to cope. Same thing for anyone contemplating suicide. If you're in either situation, find someone to talk with. Start a journal (you don't have to let anybody else read it---if it's an online one, there are ways to password-protect them). Pray, if you're so inclined. Focus on the good things about yourself. Remember how many hours a day you are not in school or doing school-related things. You will get through it.

I am living proof.

Text � copyright 2000-2001 Becky