Remember these?
Did you ever get in trouble as a kid?
Well first of all, thanks for bringing up one of the most
painful experiences of my life.
In fourth grade I was ten years old, already mature
physically, and pissed off at the world because I’d rather be a boy. I hated periods, wearing bras and dealing
with trying to be dainty. Beyond that, I
was a smartass and usually said what I was thinking and got into trouble almost
daily.
My teacher was called away from the class to the
office. The class next door joined our
class and that teacher was our chaperone.
We were playing math baseball.
The corners of the room are the bases and you have to get the math
problem first to go to first base. The
person following you has tog et theirs right to go to first base and to let you
proceed to second base, and so on.
I was up to bat and I did not get my math problem correct. I turned to go back to my seat and the girl
in front of me laughed at me to my face.
I graciously stuck my tongue out at her.
She raised her hand and said something like, “Teacher, Wilma
stuck her tongue out at you.”
I’m like, “No I did not, I stuck it out at you.”
Just about that time our teacher came back to the
classroom. She must have just gotten
reamed by the Principal because she asked what was happening and she and the
other teacher conferred. My teacher jerked
me by my arm and grabbed the paddle hanging on the chalkboard. She took me into the hallway and I got three
very hard and loud whacks with that paddle.
I held back tears but I don’t think I lifted my head for the
rest of the day. When I got home I lost
it entirely. I bawled telling my mother
what happened. Instead of comforting me,
I got another spanking. My poor butt was
on fire for quite some time.
I asked why I got spanked.
My mother told me that I was never to cause trouble at school. I should behave and mind my manners.
To this day, I despise that teacher but even more I despise
the girl who tattled on me and lied as well as to what happened. I live with the peace of mind that karma has
taken care of each of them.
I still have that teacher’s picture in my desk drawer and
take it out frequently to remind myself of how much I hate her, and hope fleas
infest her armpits, that her teeth fall out on Thanksgiving, and that a rat
dies in her car and she can’t find it.
You don’t even want to know what I wish for my lying bitch
of a classmate.
Peace be with you.
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