Post by angelicdreams on Feb 7, 2013 19:17:19 GMT -5
It all started in second grade.
And, truly, that’s when my life became a living hell.
There was one boy, let’s call him AJ for now, for the sake of anonymity. So, AJ was very, and I mean very racist. He and his friend, let’s call him Joe, were both African American, and they hated Caucasian people with a burning passion.
On the first day they started class, they targeted my close friend, who was a mix of African American and Caucasian, calling her a freak and monster, because she was the daughter of a white person, and calling her Mom a slut and a whore because she’d married a white man. I don’t know how these kids, at second grade, knew these words. I can only assume it was because their parents, or older brothers, had told them.
Anyway, I stood up for my friend, and called them bullies, and said I was gonna tell the teacher. They pushed me to the ground and said that I was even worse than my friend, since both of my parents were white. They then proceeded to say that they “don’t like no white kids, don’t wanna be friends with white kids, and surely don’t need to be challenged by a white girl.” Yeah, did I mention they were sexist?
And this was in second grade, mind you.
They then proceeded to target me for the rest of the school year. Of course, I told the teacher that day, but when it was brought to AJ’s mother’s attention, she proceeded to say, “What?! But my darling little boy is an angel! He’s a good, kind, humble, God-loving boy, and he’s always going to be that way. How dare you accuse him of such awful things!”
Yep. Blind motherly love.
Joe’s was raised by his Mom, with three younger siblings (all around the age of 2-3) and an older brother who had a few problems with the law, so there wasn’t really any discipline for him. His brother even laughed and said, “Good job.”
Sadly, they were in the grade below me (I go to a Montessori school, so 1st-3rd is kinda bunched together in a class, and then 4th-6th students in a class, and finally 7th-8th in a class). Since they were in the grade below me, and I was only in second, I was stuck with them for the next year. In 3rd grade, I was suspended for telling AJ that he was pissing me off, when he was hitting me in the back of the legs and the head with his lunch box. He got off scot free.
Little shit…
Oh, yeah, in the middle of that year, during the collapse of the Detroit Auto Industry, my Mom was laid off. We lost out house, since my Dad has an L4-L5 tear in his back which he REFUSES to get surgery on to fix, and couldn’t work, because it was acting up really bad that year. So, we moved in with the all-mighty asshole that was my Grandfather, and my still-recovering-from-breast-cancer Grandmother.
All in all, my life was shit right then. I had to leave all my friends on the street; I was bullied more and more because I didn’t have all the “latest stuff” and I began to become more withdrawn. I rode my bike less and less, I spent more time sulking around the house, and reading. My grades started to drop, little by little.
Did I mention my little sister was also in my 3rd grade class? She was a first grader and UGH did she get on my nerves! We fought more, and more, and more ever since my Mom was laid off. I was without my best friend, because she’d been a grade higher than me and had gone upstairs to 4th-6th grade. At with that happy note, we end my third grade year.
Fast forward to fourth grade, I came into the classroom, where my best friend was, but was hit with an immediate surprise. The teacher assistant had changed. I was expecting Ms. S, but instead got the new, fresh-out-of-college Ms. C.
…and I hated her.
I tried to get along with her, but she was SO TOUGH on me…And me in particular.
You don’t have any IDEA how much I would’ve given to have her in the classroom for the next two years.
Fourth grade was rough. My best friend had gotten a new crowd of friends, and my old nemesis from kindergarten was in my class. Of course, the violent red-head Jean was also in my class and BOY did I hate him. He always attacked me, despite the fact he was a foot shorter. He attacked with words, as well as actions. I think he even bit me once…
Now, fourth grade was NOT my year, since I started Pre-algebra.
But, I made it through okay-ish.
Fifth grade starts.
We have a new teacher assistant, and this one is worse than the last. See, this was, Ms. R, was still LEARNING how to be a teacher.
So, to put it lightly, my class was the guinea pigs, and her trial-and-error, with more error than trial.
God, she was AWFUL! She couldn't teach worth a damn, and overall made fifth grade suck for me.
Sixth grade rolls around and, GUESS WHAT,
I HAVE A NEW TEACHER ASSITANT!
...and she lasted a day. Then we got another...she didn't even last a week...
Our class was starting to take it personally. We weren't that bad.
So, next teacher assistant comes through the revolving door, and she was worse Ms. R. She taught the class MULTIPLE grades below our level, didn't challenge any of us, which is the Montessori philosophy, and then we had this WONDERFUL incident that got me on the school's black list.
Now, I'll say now, I've never really been...a quiet student. My family has been very, ah, involved in the school, seeing as my second cousin works for the people who certify my school's charter, and we never took the bullying lightly.
Let's just say that out of a school of around six-hundred students, the principals knew my name, my sister's name, and my Dad's name, very well.
But, let's get back to the point of this whole thing.
Let's call this teacher Ms. K. Now, Ms. K came in with one of the cockiest attitudes I have ever encountered. Keep in mind, she's also fresh-out-of-college. That being said, she didn't bother to learn ANY of the student social structure.
Now, I will give my main teacher, Mr. P, some credit. He did learn the student relations and who was friends with who, and who didn't get along with who, and which two people could work together productively on an assignment. Ms. K wasn't like that.
Now, I always brought books and notebooks, and pencils and pens down to lunch, because I was still getting into my passion for reading and writing. Now, I'd brought down 'Brisingr', the third book in the Inheritance Cycle, which is not a small book, by anyone's standards. And it was hardcover, to top it off.
Very good weapon, in some cases.
So, my best friend of many years was sitting with me, let's call her Kay, was trying to grab my book from me. Now, we do this all the time, 'cause she likes to goof off around me, and we pretty much try to get on each other's last nerve. Typical best friend stuff.
Yeah, well, when I finally snatched the book back and lightly tapped Kay on the arm, Ms. K came over, snatched the book from me, and told me that I was not allowed to bring books, or notebooks, or anything of the sort down to lunch ever again. Period.
Well, I was furious, as anyone might be able to tell. So, during recess, I went up and calmly asked her, yes, I managed to keep my temper in check, why I was not allowed to bring them down again. I asked for a logical answer, as calmly and politely as I could.
She looked down at me, yes, looked down both in the literal and metaphorical sense, and said, “Because I said so.”
And this was what started my 6th grade descent into hell.
Now fast forward a few months, WE HAVE ANOTHER TEACHER ASSISTANT! (I was seriously wondering if it was the class, or if it was me. The 6th grade class had tallies under the table on the number of teacher assistants we went through.)
Now, I LOVED this one...finally.
But, sadly, luck did not play in my favor, because everyone hated her.
I have the worst luck sometimes, don't I?
Of course, I also had the devil incarnate from the fourth ring of hell, S.
He was evil.
Now, we were playing UNO (I don't know who was bribed into what to get us to sit at the same table, but it all had something to do with Z, the quote-unquote class clown.) and he beat me. Jokingly, I called him an ass.
He then told Mr. P.
...and I got two detentions.
Where I had to copy definitions from the dictionary.
Of course, I was glad to discover his Mother had been okay with it, and even laughed.
Now, I can say that S was good for one thing, and that was leading me to his sister, who is currently one of my best friends.
Back to the story I was telling earlier.
My Dad did punish me for calling him an ass. I was banned from the internet for a week.
Yeah...Not one of your best calls, Dad.
See, I rant to my friends online, because I can't (or thought I couldn't) rant to people in real life. So, I had a lot of bottled up emotions over the week, and I ended up telling my teacher assistant that “I didn't give a fuck about algebra.”
That got me suspended, along with losing computer privileges for three months.
Worst. Three. Months. Of. My. Life.
Never, EVER doing that again.
Period.
Now! We're finally (somewhat) caught up in my life!
I'm in 7th grade, and yet I still deal with bullying, but I mostly brush it off, because it either comes from the mouths of bitches or the mouths of morons.
Nobody is going to put me down again.
Ever.
I'm glad I was able to get over everything, and get to this point in life where I don't have to deal with bullying, or at least it doesn't bother me.
Of course, being LGBT in my school, whose only symbol for LGBT pride is a rainbow cupcake that someone occasionally brings in on their B-Day, I'm ridiculed a lot, and called a “half-human” and told that “God doesn't want lesbians.” Yadda, yadda, yadda. But, as I said, it comes from the mouths of bitches and morons, so I ignore it.
And, truly, that’s when my life became a living hell.
There was one boy, let’s call him AJ for now, for the sake of anonymity. So, AJ was very, and I mean very racist. He and his friend, let’s call him Joe, were both African American, and they hated Caucasian people with a burning passion.
On the first day they started class, they targeted my close friend, who was a mix of African American and Caucasian, calling her a freak and monster, because she was the daughter of a white person, and calling her Mom a slut and a whore because she’d married a white man. I don’t know how these kids, at second grade, knew these words. I can only assume it was because their parents, or older brothers, had told them.
Anyway, I stood up for my friend, and called them bullies, and said I was gonna tell the teacher. They pushed me to the ground and said that I was even worse than my friend, since both of my parents were white. They then proceeded to say that they “don’t like no white kids, don’t wanna be friends with white kids, and surely don’t need to be challenged by a white girl.” Yeah, did I mention they were sexist?
And this was in second grade, mind you.
They then proceeded to target me for the rest of the school year. Of course, I told the teacher that day, but when it was brought to AJ’s mother’s attention, she proceeded to say, “What?! But my darling little boy is an angel! He’s a good, kind, humble, God-loving boy, and he’s always going to be that way. How dare you accuse him of such awful things!”
Yep. Blind motherly love.
Joe’s was raised by his Mom, with three younger siblings (all around the age of 2-3) and an older brother who had a few problems with the law, so there wasn’t really any discipline for him. His brother even laughed and said, “Good job.”
Sadly, they were in the grade below me (I go to a Montessori school, so 1st-3rd is kinda bunched together in a class, and then 4th-6th students in a class, and finally 7th-8th in a class). Since they were in the grade below me, and I was only in second, I was stuck with them for the next year. In 3rd grade, I was suspended for telling AJ that he was pissing me off, when he was hitting me in the back of the legs and the head with his lunch box. He got off scot free.
Little shit…
Oh, yeah, in the middle of that year, during the collapse of the Detroit Auto Industry, my Mom was laid off. We lost out house, since my Dad has an L4-L5 tear in his back which he REFUSES to get surgery on to fix, and couldn’t work, because it was acting up really bad that year. So, we moved in with the all-mighty asshole that was my Grandfather, and my still-recovering-from-breast-cancer Grandmother.
All in all, my life was shit right then. I had to leave all my friends on the street; I was bullied more and more because I didn’t have all the “latest stuff” and I began to become more withdrawn. I rode my bike less and less, I spent more time sulking around the house, and reading. My grades started to drop, little by little.
Did I mention my little sister was also in my 3rd grade class? She was a first grader and UGH did she get on my nerves! We fought more, and more, and more ever since my Mom was laid off. I was without my best friend, because she’d been a grade higher than me and had gone upstairs to 4th-6th grade. At with that happy note, we end my third grade year.
Fast forward to fourth grade, I came into the classroom, where my best friend was, but was hit with an immediate surprise. The teacher assistant had changed. I was expecting Ms. S, but instead got the new, fresh-out-of-college Ms. C.
…and I hated her.
I tried to get along with her, but she was SO TOUGH on me…And me in particular.
You don’t have any IDEA how much I would’ve given to have her in the classroom for the next two years.
Fourth grade was rough. My best friend had gotten a new crowd of friends, and my old nemesis from kindergarten was in my class. Of course, the violent red-head Jean was also in my class and BOY did I hate him. He always attacked me, despite the fact he was a foot shorter. He attacked with words, as well as actions. I think he even bit me once…
Now, fourth grade was NOT my year, since I started Pre-algebra.
But, I made it through okay-ish.
Fifth grade starts.
We have a new teacher assistant, and this one is worse than the last. See, this was, Ms. R, was still LEARNING how to be a teacher.
So, to put it lightly, my class was the guinea pigs, and her trial-and-error, with more error than trial.
God, she was AWFUL! She couldn't teach worth a damn, and overall made fifth grade suck for me.
Sixth grade rolls around and, GUESS WHAT,
I HAVE A NEW TEACHER ASSITANT!
...and she lasted a day. Then we got another...she didn't even last a week...
Our class was starting to take it personally. We weren't that bad.
So, next teacher assistant comes through the revolving door, and she was worse Ms. R. She taught the class MULTIPLE grades below our level, didn't challenge any of us, which is the Montessori philosophy, and then we had this WONDERFUL incident that got me on the school's black list.
Now, I'll say now, I've never really been...a quiet student. My family has been very, ah, involved in the school, seeing as my second cousin works for the people who certify my school's charter, and we never took the bullying lightly.
Let's just say that out of a school of around six-hundred students, the principals knew my name, my sister's name, and my Dad's name, very well.
But, let's get back to the point of this whole thing.
Let's call this teacher Ms. K. Now, Ms. K came in with one of the cockiest attitudes I have ever encountered. Keep in mind, she's also fresh-out-of-college. That being said, she didn't bother to learn ANY of the student social structure.
Now, I will give my main teacher, Mr. P, some credit. He did learn the student relations and who was friends with who, and who didn't get along with who, and which two people could work together productively on an assignment. Ms. K wasn't like that.
Now, I always brought books and notebooks, and pencils and pens down to lunch, because I was still getting into my passion for reading and writing. Now, I'd brought down 'Brisingr', the third book in the Inheritance Cycle, which is not a small book, by anyone's standards. And it was hardcover, to top it off.
Very good weapon, in some cases.
So, my best friend of many years was sitting with me, let's call her Kay, was trying to grab my book from me. Now, we do this all the time, 'cause she likes to goof off around me, and we pretty much try to get on each other's last nerve. Typical best friend stuff.
Yeah, well, when I finally snatched the book back and lightly tapped Kay on the arm, Ms. K came over, snatched the book from me, and told me that I was not allowed to bring books, or notebooks, or anything of the sort down to lunch ever again. Period.
Well, I was furious, as anyone might be able to tell. So, during recess, I went up and calmly asked her, yes, I managed to keep my temper in check, why I was not allowed to bring them down again. I asked for a logical answer, as calmly and politely as I could.
She looked down at me, yes, looked down both in the literal and metaphorical sense, and said, “Because I said so.”
And this was what started my 6th grade descent into hell.
Now fast forward a few months, WE HAVE ANOTHER TEACHER ASSISTANT! (I was seriously wondering if it was the class, or if it was me. The 6th grade class had tallies under the table on the number of teacher assistants we went through.)
Now, I LOVED this one...finally.
But, sadly, luck did not play in my favor, because everyone hated her.
I have the worst luck sometimes, don't I?
Of course, I also had the devil incarnate from the fourth ring of hell, S.
He was evil.
Now, we were playing UNO (I don't know who was bribed into what to get us to sit at the same table, but it all had something to do with Z, the quote-unquote class clown.) and he beat me. Jokingly, I called him an ass.
He then told Mr. P.
...and I got two detentions.
Where I had to copy definitions from the dictionary.
Of course, I was glad to discover his Mother had been okay with it, and even laughed.
Now, I can say that S was good for one thing, and that was leading me to his sister, who is currently one of my best friends.
Back to the story I was telling earlier.
My Dad did punish me for calling him an ass. I was banned from the internet for a week.
Yeah...Not one of your best calls, Dad.
See, I rant to my friends online, because I can't (or thought I couldn't) rant to people in real life. So, I had a lot of bottled up emotions over the week, and I ended up telling my teacher assistant that “I didn't give a fuck about algebra.”
That got me suspended, along with losing computer privileges for three months.
Worst. Three. Months. Of. My. Life.
Never, EVER doing that again.
Period.
Now! We're finally (somewhat) caught up in my life!
I'm in 7th grade, and yet I still deal with bullying, but I mostly brush it off, because it either comes from the mouths of bitches or the mouths of morons.
Nobody is going to put me down again.
Ever.
I'm glad I was able to get over everything, and get to this point in life where I don't have to deal with bullying, or at least it doesn't bother me.
Of course, being LGBT in my school, whose only symbol for LGBT pride is a rainbow cupcake that someone occasionally brings in on their B-Day, I'm ridiculed a lot, and called a “half-human” and told that “God doesn't want lesbians.” Yadda, yadda, yadda. But, as I said, it comes from the mouths of bitches and morons, so I ignore it.
