My Name is Danielle: The old me, the school years

Oh yes... the school years. Since I don't really remember much from my school years in Canada with the exception of a nun dragging me around by my ear when I spoke English in a French school when I was in Grade 1, (I was living in a French town at the time). I can't give much more detail from my younger school years. I was in my 3rd year of elementary school when my family relocated to Mississippi. Here is the story. I am going to try and keep this in chronological order... but memories from so long ago are not date and time stamped. That would make things so much more complicated in an already busy mind ;oP

I remember the first day of school in Picayune. I didn't want to go. I didn't know ANYONE!!! Even back then I did not like crowds or groups and especially so when you are in unfamiliar surroundings. My mother didn't know what school to take me to... there was only one junior high for my brother... and one high school for my older brother and sister. So she took me to the elementary school she thought was closest to home. West Side Elementary. I don't remember much there. They put the run to me and mom once they found out where I lived. They told me my school was South Side and I had to go there. I remember that... they gave my mom directions.

This school scared me, and it scared my mom... it was all fenced in and it looked abandoned and if I remember correctly it was not in great shape at least compared to the previous school we were at before they redirected us. My mother enrolled me and she was told to take me to Mrs. Grantham's class... and was given directions how to get me there... no escort from the office, no paper work AND my mom had to make the introductions. Mrs Grantham was not very pleased and she basically said to my mother... she had no room for me, to take me back to the office. My mom said "The office said to bring her here. If you have a problem with the office, YOU go to the office" OH SHIT... here we go, I remember starting to cry already. "My teacher didn't want me." I remember thinking. Remember old me had confidence issues at this point anyway. New and Old Danielle don't like change... but New Danielle can handle it now when I have time to prepare and psych myself up for it. I was only 8 and would cry at the drop of a hat.

Mrs. Grantham came back down the hallway and said "Take her to Mrs. Pigott's class across the hall". The New me thinks back to that day and all I can think is Mrs Grantham must have had a really bad morning because she was nice any other time to me and all of her students seemed to love her... Something must have happened and it really had nothing to do with me... but tell that to an Old me who was already scared of change as it was.

Mrs Pigott greeted me and sat me at a desk and then she went to the principals office too... "What in the world did I do?" was all I could think. I thought she didn't want me either. I put my head down and cried my eyes out. I had no school supplies yet. I remember a couple of students patted me on the back and handed me some paper and a pencil and told me that I had to write January (the new month) and the day of the week repeatedly. I thought this was odd... because I already knew how to spell all the months, and days of the week in two languages. Oh yeah, I was a rebel. I don't remember much about the rest of Grade 3. I do remember that I liked Mrs. Pigott a great deal. She was so very nice to me. She would give me hugs, I think she could tell there were times when I needed one. Every Friday if we were good that week, she would send us home with a treat. I loved Fridays. That hasn't changed much. :o)

Oh Grade 4.... THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS I got unlucky that year. I got a teacher who just didn't seem to like me at all. She believed in Corporal punishment. She had a paddle named George she kept on the hook close to her desk. George and I made contact a couple of times. I was fortunate enough to have discovered pink slips. I had no idea what pink slips were. She would always threaten me with them and since I felt like I did nothing wrong, I did not see them as bad things. "How could anything pink be bad???" I thought. Well I soon found out, pink slips were a one-way pass to the office meaning "YOU ARE IN SHIT!" I started to hate the colour pink especially in pink forms. New me still hates pink paperwork... Go figure!

SPITBALLS I didn't have a clue what spitballs were at all. Call me naive, or whatever you like. My mouth usually got me in trouble... almost always... but I didn't use any props. I didn't have to because my mouth just didn't know when to stop... ask anyone who really knows the old and new me... it is still like that. Spitballs were being thrown (or rather spit) from behind my desk. Some landed on my desk. Whoever complained about the spitballs sure got the teacher upset. She walked down my row and I looked down and discovered that my desk had random spitballs on the desk... ewwwww. "But Mrs. I didn't do it... I don't know where they came from but not from me I even have them in my hair." I told her. Lucky me. I told her I thought they came from behind me somewhere because she thought I had thrown the spitballs. I got paddled, had to stay in for recess, and I DIDN'T DO A FREAKING THING WRONG!!!!

Some time later (weeks, maybe a month or two not sure) I saw someone using their magic markers to paint my friend Natalie's hair and she was unaware. She had the most beautiful long blonde hair and it landed on this classmates desk, therefore becoming a canvas for his artwork. I told the teacher about this right away. She curtly advised to me that for the remainder of the day that I will be wearing the "tattle tail". It was a sign made of construction paper saying "tattle tail" in bold letters and had construction paper rings (the tail) that hung all the way to my feet. It announced the entire playground that I tattled on a classmate. OK, sure I tattled... but I was tattling because another classmate was painting my friends hair with MARKERS. He was not punished. Again... GO FIGURE?!?!?!?

REPORT CARD DAY Oh this was a great day... The day my parents came to school to confront my teacher. My grades were all A's except for reading. I got a D. Yes, a D!!! I was in a twelfth grade reader, they had to find an appropriate reader for me in Grade 4 at that level. Most 12th grade material was "too mature. etc" but they found something. I remember Zimbabwe being part of the reading material. My parents asked this teacher why I got a D if I am so advanced in reading. I was reading before I entered Grade 1 and I did so in two languages French and English. Her response to my parents???? "She has a strong French accent, and she is not pronouncing the words correctly, she is doing it with an accent.". My parents were none too impressed. I already hated my teacher, she used to make me ill; horribly, physically ill. I would throw up, I would cry more than I did before and I shook... I mean I shook like a person with severe Parkinson's Disease. A washing mashing on spin cycle with a load off kilter was nothing and I mean NOTHING compared to my nerves!!!

We had a substitute principal as the principal had a heart attack and was out for a while. The teacher wrote a lovely pink slip and sent me to the office AGAIN... I can't remember why... I would just come to the principals office in tears and they would calm me down, and let me go back. I never remember the principal ever punishing me AT ALL. Mr "Foots" Hill was the fill in principal that day. He was my angel. I wish I could tell him how he saved me back then. I was crying and when I calmed down he noticed how I shook so bad I could barely compose myself. He called my mom and she came right to the school. He talked to mom and mom told him about some of the things the teacher had done to me. I remember him holding my hand and telling me I should not shake like this and I could go home for the day with my mom. I heard him tell my mom that he will walk up and down the hall more often by my class and make his presence known. That he did. I remember hearing his footsteps knowing he was there and thinking he was protecting me. Shortly after this incident teacher went on maternity leave and all I could think of is how sorry I felt for this poor innocent baby coming into the world under her protection or lack thereof, with her random idiosyncrasies that seemed to plague her at moments notice and with no good reason whatsoever. With her gone I got some peace, but the damage she caused will live with me forever. I want to let it go. But she still haunts me to this day. That teacher just wasn't right!!!!

Grade 8 or 9 (or maybe 7) this is one of those "wish I had a time stamp" thingies I was speaking about earlier. Junior high for sure ;oP My English teacher. She was a special unit. She loved her paddle too, she just did not have a name for it. She loved to throw toilet paper, erasers, and chalk at any student she felt was doing something wrong or gave a wrong answer when she felt the need. That entire class became pretty good at being able to dodge and duck on a split seconds notice (I think George Bush would have been proud... or perhaps he may have even had her as a teacher). I got paddled one day. She thought I said a swear word. I did not, but after the paddling, I wish I had. I was wearing my scoliosis brace at the time. This was a fiberglass/plastic contraption and it was molded for my body, it did not go up to my neck, but it went under my sternum) shaped like a reverse rib cage so hard to describe) with arm pit supports and went down over my tail bone and in front over my pubic bone. I had to wear huge clothes two sizes too big and she KNEW I was wearing a brace... It was not comfortable. It was not fun and it sure was NOT INVISIBLE! When I got three strikes with the paddle, the paddle pushed the piece beneath the sternum under the rib cage and up and under the sternum. When you get paddled you have to bend over and touch your knees. I did not have this flexibility so she had me brace the wall and bend how I could, so she was well aware of me and my brace. I was in a lot of pain. I wound up hospitalized for pneumonia. I REFUSED to ever wear this contraption again... and boy were my parents mad... they spent all this money on this thing and an entire wardrobe.... and I only told mom and dad what she did to me when I was in my 30's. I thought if I had told mom and dad back then I would be in trouble at home too. Mom said she wished she would have known because she would have sued the school for abuse. I wish I would have known she felt that way. I wish I felt that I could have told her that back then. I wish I wish I wish.... Oh well. It is in the past.

Well this is it for this chapter. I have a couple other psycho teachers. I take heart knowing that with so many of these 'psycho' teachers, other students were also involved. This way it didn't feel personal. It is one thing when everyone is treated equally bad. It is another when one is being singled out.

My next chapter will deal with classmates, the good, the bad and the hurtful!!!