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The Crossroads Again |
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Lately, I've been wondering how I came to be where I am in the dance called life. Each time I ask myself this question, I always go back as far as I can remember to the characters who impacted my experiences the most, good or bad, and how those experiences have altered my path. Frankly, I don't even know if this is healthy. Perhaps, I should consult a shrink before I begin this journey. Or maybe this is who and what I am and that's as good as it gets. But I do know that it's time to move on. I am fortunate to have met a wonderful person in the Scrabble/Words with Friends website who encouranges me to write. His wonderful and encouraging spirit has restored my faith in mankind and been a great source of inspiriation. And because of him, I shall take the first step. Heaven forbid that I bore my readers. In the beginning, there was "G-d." Okay, this is were it gets tricky. The experience of religion in catholic school was to do as you're told, don't ask questions, be quiet and sit up straight. Great...here comes first blows to imagination, clarity, and, personal growth. And I was expected to accept that by this behaviour, I would "Make it to Heaven and G-d would reward me for being stupid but only, of course, after I'm dead." Screw all the magical experiences encountered along the way when a six year old feels and knows that something else is happening each and every moment of every day, who doesn't have the words to express the questions yet, and is being taught that nobody will listen even if I did, or help and explain these moments of pure magic and beauty and wonderment of life as it unfolds each and everyday I stepped into the sunshine and felt the loving warmth of the sun. This was my introduction to fear. Fear in the sense of feeling absolutely alone and insignificant, unimportant, and just a child. No questions allowed. What a great gift from these "grownups." And I was expected to appreciate these gifts and ask for more. Yeah, thanks a lot. It's important for me to mention that by the time I reached age 4, I could read the newspaper. Thinking back, I should read more than I did, but I just wanted to go outside and pay, play with my dolls and play cards, anything to get out of the house and away from my mother's daily lessons. So, I decided to learn so that she would leave me alone. By the time I reached school age, I had a vast understanding of language and meaning. When I saw the first dragon lady covered from head to toe in black, flowing garments, I knew I was headed toward learning things I would have no interest in. I told the lay teacher, the teachers who take over when the dragon ladies were busy or tired, that I could already read and write -- and that was in first grade. The lay teacher's response was: "You'll do that in second grade." So, that meant I had an entire year of bordem and tedious repetition of things I already knew. It was difficult to hold my attention. But something occurred, which I regret to this day. Sister Dianisha, the principle of the school, was flying down the path along the doors to the school rooms. I had just been told the day before that I had to wait till second grade to learn reading and writing and at six years old, seeing the head dragon lady, flying down the pathway, I didnt' speak up and tell her, myself, that I was learnning things I already knew. Hense, the lessons of not using my own intelligence and being afraid to stand up for myself and becoming more dependent upon "grownups" to speak in my behalf, had set a course that would take me into a herd mentality and not into a freedom of expression that we all appreciate as American citizens. |
I can see, even now, that I was brighter, perhaps, than most chiildren my age because my mother taught me to read and write by the age of four. I vividly remember her stopping me before I could get out the door and outside and sitting me on the big green couch and placing the alphabet before me. She would say a letter and I would repeat it. I wish she had taught me to count as easily. I'm terrible at mathematics but I struggle until I get it. Math is a rewarding subject. She would query me each day. All I wanted to do was get outside and play in the morning air. She had other plans for me. Each day, I got better and better and thought, "Okay, today, she'll let me outta here." But noooo, she continued and I followed until she was satisfied I had learned enough for the day. One day, knowing I would not reach the door, I decided that today was the day I would surprise her and show her what I had learned. I passed every test she gave me, thinking hard and responding correctly, unil it seemed there was no more for me to learn. She enjoyed showing off my english prowess by giving me the newspaper and telling me to read it to the neighbors. I could easily do that and even surprised myself by enunciating each syllable and understanding what I was reading. Looking back, I wish I had spent even more time reading. But finally, after so many months, I could play freely. Didn't want to give that up for all the cookies and breakfasts with daddy before he went to work found on the planet. It's no wonder I was bored when I arrived in first grade. Still, I just wanted to play. But playing on the asphalt playground with no dirt and no jump ropes and no balls for 20 minutes each day was numbingly disappointing. |
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