“THEY” Cripple Society Volume 1: Who are “THEY” and how do they do it? An Expose in True to Life Narrative Exploring Stories of Discrimination. Cleon E. Spencer

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“THEY” Cripple Society Volume 1: Who are “THEY” and how do they do it? An Expose in True to Life Narrative Exploring Stories of Discrimination - Cleon E. Spencer


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shoes of medium height daintily covered her feet. Her extra height had an overall slimming effect on her well built, well proportioned solid looking body. She wore a minimum of jewelry - a small golden cross hanging from her neck by a fine chain, and small plain circular earrings of matching metal. Yes, Gilda Emerson, unpretentious hairdo and all, would stand out in any crowd- because of her fine appearance. She would stand out also because of her fine character. It wasn’t difficult to observe that her behavior also was unpretentious. She too was just herself. She had that much, and more, in common with Donna Coyne, regardless of the contrast.

      As the group members stood around the room exchanging greetings and chatting on this their second night of meeting for the season, Dr. Eldren seemed to be enjoying the social activity as well as did the others. But time was passing by. He looked at his watch, motioned towards the chairs, already placed in a circle by the early comers.

      “It’s time to get started folks; a few minutes of socializing warm up is a good way to begin, but there will be a long day again tomorrow for each of you,” he said caringly.

      After all the group members were seated, Dr. Eldren set the stage for the evening’s discussion.

      “Leo told us last week of how he came to be here in this group,” remarked Dr. Eldren, “but I also take note that Gilda pried deeply and brought to the forefront some very significant details of Leo’s experience. Gilda has said she would relate to us this evening some of her own experiences so that we may be able to compare and contrast the experiences of each of them.”

      Gilda replied positively, but with qualifications. “I think,” she said, “that in my case I had better start earlier in life, and then in the light of that, my university experiences may have more meaning for you.”

      “Good, Gilda,” responded Dr. Eldren, “begin where you think would be most appropriate.”

      “Well, first I’ll mention my home life,” Gilda began. “It was satisfactory for the most part. I was close to my parents and well thought of by both of them, in my younger years at least. As time went on my father and I drifted further apart than we had been, but I’ll leave that matter till later. As I grew up I had a good circle of friends, drawn from various walks of life, both boys and girls, with whom I feel I socialized well in the usual ways that young people do - sports events, parties, outings, visiting in one another’s homes, and congregating at nice teen age meeting places. I feel I was well thought of by most people.”

      Gilda then paused for a moment as if reflecting more deeply, “Of course, not everyone thought well of me, I had enemies too,” she remarked more slowly, as though it pained her to say so.

      Dr. Eldren interjected, “perhaps Gilda, as you tell your story it will reveal to us some reasons why you had these enemies.

      “Oh yes, yes,” replied Gilda, now becoming fully alert to the present again. “No doubt about it, Dr. Eldren.”

      “You see I have always done well in school,” Gilda proceeded. “Right from my early grades I was usually the leader of my class academically. Although I wasn’t intentionally competitive at all, I received a great satisfaction from it. I was simply doing my best and was well pleased with myself. It wasn’t till grade five I ran into problems. There I had a teacher who disliked me, and was determined to put me down. She resented me because I came from a well-to-do family, and she favored several other children over me - one in particular who did well and who usually came second in class. I had come up through the earlier grades with this girl. We were not close friends, but there was no animosity between us either. In fact we often helped each other by discussing the more difficult math problems together.

      But this grade five teacher drove a wedge between us by her discriminatory attitude. For example, once when I made an error in answering a question verbally, this teacher said to me in a seemingly polite yet cutting tone of voice, ‘see Gilda, just because you come from a rich family doesn’t mean you have all the answers.’ At times when I didn’t give a satisfactory answer, which wasn’t very often, she would turn to the other girl and of course often receive the right answer. Then she would remind me that other people can come up with good answers too. Such open abuses as this were not frequent, but often enough to confirm in a tangible manner her general attitude towards me.

      As young as I was I could not help but sense the teacher’s dislike for me. This dislike was shown almost daily in more subtle ways. For example again, when a question was asked and several of us put up our hand to answer, I would always be the last one chosen to answer. Again when the teacher singled out one student to answer a question it was seldom me she asked, and then only when it was a very difficult or tricky question to answer; one in which it seemed she wished to stick me, which she occasionally did in such a manner as would embarrass and discourage me greatly.”

      Gilda paused, as if reliving the experience for a moment.

      Collin Seldon broke the silence. “How did this affect your school year Gilda?” he asked.

      The question alerted Gilda again. “I gave up trying” she said. “I was discouraged and no longer had the desire to do well. I slipped to seventh place in my class that year; still not too badly, but I just sort of got by on what I already knew. I didn’t work hard like I used to.”

      Collin asked another question, “How did it affect the girl who had been coming second?”

      “It turned her into a rival,” replied Gilda, “and naturally she came first that year. She and some others held me in disdain because I was no longer out front. I’m sure though that they at that age were innocent victims as I was, and were led without being aware of what was happening to them.

      Collin probed with still a further question. “Was your family wealthy Gilda?”

      “At the time my father was in an upper middle income bracket, Collin. We were well-to-do but not wealthy. My father was moving up in a very well known corporation. Some people therefore assumed he was wealthy. Presently my father is Vice President and General Manager of this medium size corporation. He has worked hard and done well. I still wouldn’t say we are wealthy even now, but definitely not when I was in grade five,” was Gilda’s reply.

      Dr. Eldren came in with a question. “Were your parents aware of this difficulty you were having in grade five, Gilda?”

      “No,” she replied, “at that age I didn’t fully comprehend what was going on. It is only as I look back on it now that I can see clearly what was happening. I did complain to my parents at times that the teacher didn’t like me, but they took the position that if I kept up my work and did it well the teacher would be pleased with me again. They tried to encourage me in various ways but that only added to my frustration.”

      Gilda’s face was flushed. The telling of this old story that had long been pushed out of memory brought painful feelings to her now. “My parents didn’t understand,” she repeated, “and I was too young to explain!”

      Owen Winslow picked up the matter sympathetically so as to share Gilda’s burden. “Your parents had no way of knowing Gilda, so they took the effect to be the cause and the cause to be the effect.”

      “Yes,” she said, “that’s just it Owen.”

      “Gilda, I would like to ask more questions if I may,” said Collin as he leaned forward in his chair in eager anticipation.

      “Yes, certainly, go ahead Collin,” she replied.

      “Do you have any brothers or sisters,” asked Collin. The question seemed irrelevant, but Gilda answered it questioningly, “Yes I have a brother, two years older than I.”

      “Did he attend the same school?” Collin came on again.

      “Yes, he did,” was the reply.

      “Did he have similar troubles as he went up through that school Gilda.”

      “Well, nothing much,” replied Gilda thoughtfully. Then as she puzzled she added slowly, “He being a boy I suppose must have made a difference.”

      Collin


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