Last Memory Before The 'Blackout'
Early memory:
When I was in about 3rd grade, I attended a private school, and I used to take ballet classes after school about twice a week. Nothing particularly rigorous (we were only third graders, after all), just teaching the positions, and learning a basic routine for the recital at the end of the year (this was for our parents, as a reward for them spending their hard-earned money on the class, ballet gear, and fundraising).
On the days when I had ballet class after school, my mother would dress me in a leotard and tights, with a jumper over them. This way, I didn't have to carry extra clothing, simply remove the jumper, put on my ballet shoes, and I was ready for class.
The school had a playground area where kids could burn off steam before school started, and during recess. Parents dropped their children off at the playground (there were teachers keeping an eye on the children), and when classes were to begin, the teachers would have us line up in our class groups, and we'd go into the school building to begin our day.
This particular day was in the fall, but it was an unusually hot day for fall... 'Indian Summer', we used to call it then. And I was dressed for both fall and ballet class, in my leotard, tights, and jumper.
Did I mention it was hot?
When I got uncomfortable, I remembered I was wearing my dance 'uniform' underneath this hot, itchy woolen jumper.
So, I took it off, folded it up, and placed it on top of my schoolbag, and re-joined my friends in the game.
That lasted until the teachers saw what I was wearing. Everyone stopped and stared as I was gathered up, redressed (the word I remember the teachers saying repeatedly was 'naked'), and sitting in an office until my mother could come and get me.
I was baffled. I *wasn't* naked; I was wearing my dance uniform; I wore it twice a week, in class with everyone else wearing the same thing. Why are the teachers upset?
My mother came and got me, fussed at me for taking my jumper off, and told me to *only* take my jumper off in dance class, no where else. And I never did that again.
But it was too late. I was different; and while the kids picked at me over it, I remember the teachers treated me differently forever after. There was shame involved around what I had done... all I understood was I had let my parents down, and displeased my teachers. It was a bad scene, one that makes my gut twist with shame to this day when I thing about it, which isn't often.
And, once a week during school time I had to go and talk to a strange guy that asked me questions that didn't make any sense to me (I wish I could remember the questions, I just remember the emotions).
I remember my parents being upset, my mother talking to the strange guy from time to time (during school hours, with me in the room), and even though I was smart, and got good grades, I could feel something was wrong, even though I didn't know what it was.
Two years later, my mother put me in a different private school.
:returning to present day:
And while my memories of my childhood are hazy (it was forty years ago, after all), I only have the memories mentioned here from the time of this incident to when I began at the new school in fifth grade. The rest of it are a few dim 'snapshots' of hallway corridors, and offices in the school.
And I was an adult before I understood what I had done wrong.
When I was in about 3rd grade, I attended a private school, and I used to take ballet classes after school about twice a week. Nothing particularly rigorous (we were only third graders, after all), just teaching the positions, and learning a basic routine for the recital at the end of the year (this was for our parents, as a reward for them spending their hard-earned money on the class, ballet gear, and fundraising).
On the days when I had ballet class after school, my mother would dress me in a leotard and tights, with a jumper over them. This way, I didn't have to carry extra clothing, simply remove the jumper, put on my ballet shoes, and I was ready for class.
The school had a playground area where kids could burn off steam before school started, and during recess. Parents dropped their children off at the playground (there were teachers keeping an eye on the children), and when classes were to begin, the teachers would have us line up in our class groups, and we'd go into the school building to begin our day.
This particular day was in the fall, but it was an unusually hot day for fall... 'Indian Summer', we used to call it then. And I was dressed for both fall and ballet class, in my leotard, tights, and jumper.
Did I mention it was hot?
When I got uncomfortable, I remembered I was wearing my dance 'uniform' underneath this hot, itchy woolen jumper.
So, I took it off, folded it up, and placed it on top of my schoolbag, and re-joined my friends in the game.
That lasted until the teachers saw what I was wearing. Everyone stopped and stared as I was gathered up, redressed (the word I remember the teachers saying repeatedly was 'naked'), and sitting in an office until my mother could come and get me.
I was baffled. I *wasn't* naked; I was wearing my dance uniform; I wore it twice a week, in class with everyone else wearing the same thing. Why are the teachers upset?
My mother came and got me, fussed at me for taking my jumper off, and told me to *only* take my jumper off in dance class, no where else. And I never did that again.
But it was too late. I was different; and while the kids picked at me over it, I remember the teachers treated me differently forever after. There was shame involved around what I had done... all I understood was I had let my parents down, and displeased my teachers. It was a bad scene, one that makes my gut twist with shame to this day when I thing about it, which isn't often.
And, once a week during school time I had to go and talk to a strange guy that asked me questions that didn't make any sense to me (I wish I could remember the questions, I just remember the emotions).
I remember my parents being upset, my mother talking to the strange guy from time to time (during school hours, with me in the room), and even though I was smart, and got good grades, I could feel something was wrong, even though I didn't know what it was.
Two years later, my mother put me in a different private school.
:returning to present day:
And while my memories of my childhood are hazy (it was forty years ago, after all), I only have the memories mentioned here from the time of this incident to when I began at the new school in fifth grade. The rest of it are a few dim 'snapshots' of hallway corridors, and offices in the school.
And I was an adult before I understood what I had done wrong.
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