Trapped In Between. Marilyn Elaine Lundberg Lundberg
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car in and out of the garage, my kitty never tried to escape. He would purposely leave the big garage door open, but she was content to stay in her little paradise. She and I were best friends and she didn’t need to search for a better home.
On the first day of fifth grade I eyed my new teacher carefully. She wasn’t a friendly and happy person like my fourth grade teacher had been. This teacher rarely smiled. She seemed to be putting in the time, but would rather be somewhere else and not in my classroom. I am not even sure if she was fond of children, if I had to guess, I would say no. My desk was located on the back row, and I was as far to the left as you could get. The tall row of windows was right behind me, and every time I stood up, I would glance out and see my little white house with maroon windows across the street. I was uncomfortable in this fifth grade classroom, I didn’t like being confined in Miss S’s room, and I longed to be at home, by myself, where it was safe.
I may have blushed in the past years of school, but I have no memory of it. Blushing became an everyday annoyance for me in the fifth grade. I blushed when the teacher or any other student even glanced at me. I was fiercely self-conscious regarding my protruding teeth. I blushed brilliantly red when Miss S called on me to answer questions, especially if I didn’t get my mouth guard out in time to avoid the lisping. I would try and duck my head behind the classmate in front of me, so that there was no eye contact between the teacher, and me whenever possible.
I developed low self-esteem and felt subservient to my other classmates soon after the year began. The kids would harass me about my teeth, and I would blush, and then they would mock me for blushing. It was a never ending cycle of maltreatment.
Most of the time when Miss S asked a question of the class I knew the right answer, but was too timid to raise my hand. I wanted to excel and be like the other kids, but I just didn’t have it in me. I would watch my classmates talk freely and openly to the class with no observable nervousness at all, and I marveled at them. I wanted to be like them, but I felt odd. I instead kept all the right answers in my head, and forced myself to be invisible, in order to survive the long hours of the school day.
Miss S had a style of teaching that was foreign to me. She would say a sentence and leave out one or more of the words. She would then call on a student to fill in the omitted words. We all had to listen carefully because we never knew when the word would be left out. It wasn’t every sentence, and she may go on many paragraphs and then leave out a word. When she called on us we absolutely needed to know the correct answer. It was a style of teaching that got us students to pay strict attention, but it caused me great apprehension and nervousness. You could never drift off, because that’s when she would get you. I hated her teaching technique. Why scare us, just teach the information in a fun way, I thought.
One morning Miss S announced to the class that she expected us all to start giving oral book reports. We were supposed to read a book; I loved to read, and then go up in front of the class and tell everyone all about the book. OH MY GOSH! That was not what I wanted to do, me and my big teeth in front of all my schoolmates. How was I ever going to accomplish this new assignment? At that exact, precise moment in time, I began to obsessively worry about public speaking. How was I ever going to do what the teacher demanded of me, and survive the aftermath of humiliation from the other kids? I was sick to my stomach. Oh, and it wasn’t going to be just one oral report, she was requiring several speeches during the school year.
I saw no possible way to get out of this assignment other than running away from home, but I was too little. I was cornered, and had to do this darn oral book report!
The first night after receiving the assignment, I had a horrible dream of a gigantic black bear looking at me, and then chasing after me. I had the same dream the next night, and then the next night, and the following night. Every single night the big black bear pursued me. First I would eye this huge creature, and he would look me straight in the eyes and I would start running! I would run swiftly away and the bear would track closely after me, my breath would be labored as I was running full out and then I would come to an area of swampy water and my feet would get bogged down deeper and deeper as I attempted to run! It was like running in slow motion and I would glance back and the humongous black bear would be getting closer and closer as I struggled to free myself from the mud. He was gaining on me! I would then spot a tree and jump, grabbing onto a lower branch swinging myself up into the safety of the tree, and for a second I thought that I was safe, but no, the bear jumped up and grabbed the bark and scurried right up behind me! I crawled from limb to limb to the very tip top of the tree, with the branches swaying dangerously to and fro from my weight, there was no place else to go and I turned my head and the bears eyes almost touched mine and the bear killed me and devoured me! I died in my sleep every night and woke up sweaty and crying!
I knew that those stupid oral book reports were giving me those bad dreams, and it was all because of Miss S. I hated her!
I now was terrified to go to sleep and I loathed school and my teacher. I wondered if all the other kids were feeling like me? Were they scared too? Were the others having horrible nightmares like me? Why was the teacher torturing me like this?
The day soon arrived in which I had to give the stupid oral book report. I volunteered to be one of the first so that I could put that dilemma behind me. I faced the challenge, went up there and just did it. It was so intimidating up in front of all the other students and my teacher; it all seemed unreal, like I was in a bad dream. I barely took a breath during my speech, didn’t look up much, and just said the words and walked back to my desk. I did it! I was glad that obstacle was over until the next time.
In the playground my friends said, “Man, was your face red! It was almost crimson in color, even the part in your hair was red, and your ears were red!” These were my friends. What do you say to that? It is bad enough when strangers make fun of you, but when it is your friends, it breaks your heart. They were supposed to have my back and lift me up, but that was not the case for me. It just made me want to be more inconspicuous.
Due to my new dread and hatred for school, I made a goal for myself, just make it through the week. I couldn’t wait for Friday night, because I knew that I had two safe days before I had to go back to school again. On Friday night I felt fantastic, Saturday was mediocre, but by Sunday morning I had that nauseated and sick stomach, that comes with anxiety, nervousness and worry. I dreaded returning to school on Monday morning. Each week was the same all through fifth grade; just make it to Friday night so I wasn’t trapped in her classroom.
A new anxiety began to unfold around this time, and that was an uneasiness of looking at myself in a mirror. I avoided all mirrors. I didn’t like when anyone looked at me and I also had a queasiness looking at myself. When I gazed upon my own reflection I would see the blush slowly creep into my cheeks, and then cover my face, ears, neck and hairline. The blush disgusted me. The times that I did quickly check my reflection, I used light from a faraway window or would crack open the door to catch light from the adjacent room. I chose to never illuminate my reflection at home, because in the dark you couldn’t see the red. In the school bathrooms I just looked down as I washed my hands. That shows you how serious the shyness and timidity had overtaken me.
My saving grace was still the wonderful school playground and my Tiger kitty. Evenings and weekends my two friends and I would play anything with a ball. Softball, whiffle ball, kickball, dodgeball or fly our kites. I was a natural at sports because it all came easy for me. The playground was my heaven on earth. I had no stress on the grassy fields, I was jubilant and free as a bird in that park-like setting.
My friend and her little sister never teased me; they were true friends and compassionate to me. If we were walking down the street together, and other kids were walking toward us they would say, “Try and close your lips so that they won’t tease you, or quick let’s walk the other way.” They were both kindhearted and gracious to me.
I also adored gym class. If teams were picked, I was the first girl to be chosen. This was the only time at school where I could be myself, free of anxiety and fear. I could run like the wind, nimbly climb a rope or throw a ball as far as any of the other boys. Sports handed me the confidence that I lacked during time spent in Miss S’s classroom, but unfortunately gym class was only an hour a day.
There