Time to fess up... I have been hinting at it. The Reluctant Quester, as you already know, is phobic about having to write ... In my last post you found out that I could not stay in my seat...that I whispered to my neighbor. What were my choices? Hello! If I could write, I would have passed her a note.
So one day I came home from third grade with a very swollen and very red ear.
Mother was not happy...thinks bully. I said no, it was the teacher. Now mother was really not happy and wanted to go to school and talk to my teacher. Now I wasn't happy. The ear hurt, but if she talked to my teacher my father would kill me.
Of course the next day my mother marched me into the classroom. Every kid was staring at me with expectant, eager faces. They knew that this would be good and were hungry for blood.
Rather than looking scared, my teacher looked desperate - her eyes pleading. Sadly it wasn't for forgiveness, but for help. She was beside herself, frustrated, defeated.
She told my mother that she didn't not know what to do with me. I wouldn't listen, wouldn't sit in my seat, and that I never shut up - never stopped until and unless she grabbed me out of my seat and pulled me around the room by my ear. Ouch!
My mother got this look of recognition on her face. The teacher looked at my mother, then at me, and shook me so hard that I almost fell down while the entire class laughed hysterically.
Luckily, I got out of there without a detached retina. Somehow I managed to survive the third grade without going deaf and blind, but I remained illiterate.
Actually today it would have been worse. No one would touch me, just medicate me, drug me into submission. Simple and painless. No damage to the senses. Meds just dull them so you won't whisper to your neighbor or jump out of your seat. Corporal punishment replaced by modern medicine - progress.
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