I'm taking a quick break from my drabbles to tell you about something very near and dear to my heart.
It's just a story about how I hate everybody.
When I was younger I was an incredibly frightened, painfully shy child. For some strange reason, my mother thought that things like friends, and love would make it all better.
So, she enrolled me in a private, advanced pre-school/kindergarden type place where you basically had your first year/year and a half of elementary school done and finished by graduation. (Age six or seven).
Before I go any further with this story, do you remember that kid back in school who was really, really smart, but sat in the back of the class and ignored everyone and you were secretly afraid that they’d finally just snap at the stupidity around them and do something terrible?
Well, Hi there petrified class-mate. That was me.
I don’t think my mother ever really thought about the reasoning for my shyness. In fact, now that I think about it, I think shy was a very misleading label. Shy seems to give the idea that one *wants* to do something “HI RANDOM STRANGER” but are too terrified too. *Random stranger = Pedophile*. While thinking back on it, I believe that I was just anti-social.
At school time I’d do all my work accordingly. During whatever big exam some outside-educators came and performed I hit very high marks. But play time was a happily lonesome time for me, because frankly, I didn’t like anyone. Torin was a spoiled rich kid who yelled and screamed when she didn’t get what she wanted. Cory was an abused kid from the ghetto that only got into the school on Financial Aid, and everyone else was kind of just there.
I also didn’t have a great love for the teachers. I was born with an innate sense of right vs. wrong, and frankly, I just didn’t like authority.
So, two years there and off to “real school” I went.
My mother, still trying to shower me with love and friends thought I should sign up for team sports.
She had NO idea what she was doing.
We started with soccer. Oh, yes, how I LOVED kicking that ball as hard as I possibly could at someo-I mean, a net. But I just never did get that ‘teamwork’ thing going on. So...I quit after a season.
Now, a year or so before all this I had started horse-back riding. This fit me just fine because there weren’t any teams. I started earlier then any of the other kids (The start-age at the time was 10) because, even at seven years old I was hog-crazy about horses. The instructor was more then impressed and I can’t help but wonder if I disappointed her with never going to competition with the skill. I wonder what she would have thought if I’d told her the only reason I had started was because I had this secret dream of becoming Xena: Warrior Princess.
On the other hand, I remember vividly the instructor running around her heated office editing legal paperwork that basically said “IF YOUR CHILD DIES YOU CAN NOT SUE ME,” and while I can’t remember exactly what was said between the instructor (who was impressed but still worried as hell) and my mother (who was trying *really* hard to make me happy), I can only assume it went something like this:
Instructor: She could die.
Instructor: She could fall and become paralyzed or break her neck.
Instructor: No, seriously, this is dangerous.
Mother: Where do I sign?
Anyway, I was all over horse back riding. Until winter came when it was cold and freezing and icy and who the hell wants to do anything in that? So, after my absolute failure at soccer, my mother needed something team like for me to do during the winter.
For some reason that still escapes me, she decided that I would benefit greatly shy- wise from Karate. Oh, mother mother mother, her high hopes were dashed again and again.
I remember my disregard for authority helping me very, very little in a dojo, and after the third class I was sobbing hysterically in my baby-way and begging never ever to go back.
Okay, I’m actually not all that cool. Really, some girl hit me and while I was scary at school, outside the protection of being the weird kid on the edge I was pretty much useless.
Karate was checked off the list of things to do.
My mother continued to try.
Writing classes, drawing classes, acting classes, money down the drain.
Finally, we started homeschooling, and after getting a dose of reality about how fucking crazy and weird homeschoolers were ( I mean, seriously, compared to them I seemed normal...) my mother gave up for a few years. All the books said to just leave your kid alone and let them figure everything out on their own.
This brought me archery and shooting, which I very much enjoyed, and guess what kids? You don’t have to be in a team.
Eventually, with my varying interest's Ieft archery and pretty much ignored extra curricular stuff.
It began again.
My mother decided I should try tennis.
Tennis and Sewing.
With other people.
“It’ll be fun!”
At this point, if there HAD been any hope of me liking people, it had long since been stomped to death.
Sewing was interesting, and I stuck with it for awhile.
Even after making another girl cry after a heated political debate. (She was a huge wimp).
Tennis.... in all honesty, I hated tennis.
I didn’t, and still do not see the point of running back and forth hitting a ball.
You aren’t even allowed to hit anyone with them.
So, yeah. That lasted.
Anyway, it’s been a year or so since my mother has pushed anything. Although sometimes, you hear her start
“Brianna, I think you should try *blank* I think it’ll be...” and then she stops herself and goes along with her business.
So what exactly are we left with?
Who does not play well with others.