My first day of school. Grade One. Very nervous. I believe we may have been a few minutes late. My mother takes me into the school, asks somebody where I go. Somebody points to a room. My mother leads me to the room. I go in. Door closes. I stand by the door. The teacher stops talking to the class. Everyone stares at me.
"Who are you?", she asks.
"Robert MacDonald" I say.
She looks at her book.
"You don't belong here!" she demands.
Bitch.
I begin to cry. "I know" I think to myself. "I belong at home, watching Sesame Street and Mr. Dressup." I cried some more.
She shoos me out the door. In the hallway, I see my mother. She and another woman are laughing and drinking martinis, pointing at me. I get directed to another room and enter.
A wonderful piece of fuzz, softly and gently floating at the head of the class, asks me my name. I tell her. Her fluffiness embraces me and makes me feel welcome.
Thank you Mrs. McDonald for accepting me when I needed a place to belong.
Okay, so the martinis and the piece of fluff thing were made up, but they do illustrate my emotional state at the time.
Monday, September 13
You Don't Belong Here!
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1 comment:
Traumatic..... To this day I feel the pain of my first day of school... I vomited ... from fear, after mom left the class room...
Mom offered to clean up the mess, they ushered her out of the school.. On that first day, at my first recess, mom was at the school play yard fence with a banana for me,, in case I was hungry,, and of course to make sure I was 'Ok'. 'Worried and caring she was'...
Bizarre..
Today, some of my siblings never cease to bring this up as a family joke, the ones that chuckle the most are not the ones that visit mom at the manor and help the staff feed her pureed banana fruit, go figure.
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