When I was nine, recess at school was always very structured, no “free play.” That was what kids did after school.
We either played kick ball (a kind of easy-peasy soccer played with a lot of baseball rules thrown in) or we climbed on “monkey bars” (and fell off onto asphalt surfaces constantly).
I hated kick ball. I had really bad eyesight, was terribly uncoordinated, and hated noisy outdoor environments because they interfered with my ability to hear precise instructions from teachers.
So, one recess, my team lost the game of kickball. As my class lined up to go back inside to learn spelling, some little son of Discobrat turned to me and said with disgust, “You’re a sissy!”
I was mortally offended. A boy dared to insult ME?
I immediately hauled off (as the saying goes in the Southern U.S.) and punched him in the arm with all the righteous indignation I could muster.
The student teacher assigned to my class immediately cut me out of line and marched me, breathing tiny spurts of flame, into the girls’ bathroom.
There, in front of the stalls, she knelt down, looked mildly yet firmly in my face, and asked gently, “Now, you didn’t mean to do that, did you?”
My very seriously religious parents taught me that lying was not a good thing to do, though at that age I did not understand why.
So, while I was thinking, “Oh, yes, I did mean it!” I knew that I couldn’t admit it, and I also could NOT submit to social pressure and tell the teacher what she wanted to hear.
In frustration at not knowing what to do, I burst into tears.
The teacher took it as both confession and repentance, and was satisfied. I snorted and snarled inside and was very happy to get home and go next door to play with the Waters kids.
Great family name, very open, loving group. My two sisters and I took turns declaring we would marry the youngest son, Donny, while we all played together under a small acacia tree and poked in the dirt with sticks.
It was hard for me to learn that teachers gravitate away from lively, demanding children and toward smug little idiots. And it was hard to learn that not all boys were as brotherly and accepting as Donny Waters.
I think I’ll award myself the “I survived third grade” badge. Anybody else want one?
(Giphy)