I don’t bring up work, but I have to comment on something that happened, so that you can understand why it hits me so hard. We had awards day yesterday, and a little girl was booed. Someone who I look at being very much like myself when I was 13. Someone who kids have asked if she was my daughter. Someone who is just not one of the cool kids.
There’s a Ben Folds Five song that begins ” I was never cool in school.” The magic of Facebook has allowed me to “friend” people who I knew a long time ago. People that I was never friends with in real life. People who knew I was not cool.
That being said, a “friend” brought up a field trip we took in sixth grade. This trip was a combination of moments.We were camping far from home. I was at a new school in the sixth grade, and my best friend was not allowed to go. As others were mentioning their memories, I recall being very upset that others were making fun of me. I can’t even remember the words, but I was crying. I know the teacher was very upset and wanted me to apologize to the speaker for being so rude. “So rude” a child was being called names miles away from home. No wonder I can be so callous.
I recall lots of girl drama and being a total weirdo when it came to boys, and that was just last week. I also blended into the background in high school, and vowed to never talk to those people again.
I know the people who booed, and so does the principal. Just as my teacher knew the children that were calling me names. Nothing will be done, and it’s not because these teachers are lazy. The students who booed will sadly be someone’s boss one day. They may even president of their fraternity. Maybe they’ll run JP Morgan Chase. If not them, there will be someone else. That’s exactly why they won’t be punished, there are too many of them and they will be martyred. After all if you’re cool you don’t do what the man says anyway.
Afterwards, I handed her the newspaper camera and told her to take some shots. She seemed genuinely pleased. I hope in my heart that this moment will be buried with good events on top. I hope those kids forget what was said and find one of their own as the victim.
I am in my thirties now. I tell my students I would rather they make fun of me than each other. I cried those tears years ago and they are gone. Thirteen year-olds don’t hurt my feelings anymore. But sometimes they disappoint me.