Yesterday

Some things I took away from yesterday:

Can we finally just do away with the notion that there is anything close to impartiality in politics? There used to be the illusion of nonpartisan politics, but that was mostly because compromise and reason could prevail, because people held their elected officials to a higher standard. That was all before the internet and news as entertainment. It used to be that a lot of the people who really got involved in political issues and discussions were people who made an effort to understand issues and politics. Sure, there were always loudmouths, and there was always a segment of the population who didn’t really understand the complexity of the issues, who you could rile up and get to vote against their best interests. You used to have to read a reputable newspaper or watch real journalism on TV to get your politics, and it used to be a slog for most people to sit through. A lot of people ignored the political part of the paper, or the Washington segment of the news. There was integrity involved in reporting the news, and not just anybody could do it. Now you have anyone who can make a blog or buy a domain name for ten bucks pretending to be journalists. You have a propaganda channel like Fox, or a biased channel like MSNBC informing people, and a whole segment of the population crying that The New York Times, The Washington Post, or CNN is fake news. We get our news from soundbites and memes, and don’t even bother to check its accuracy. If we get news that we don’t like, we just change the channel or go online and look for something that tells us what we want to hear.
As a result, impartiality is completely nonexistent in politics.
Yesterday, we saw Republican Senators dead set on rushing a nomination for the Supreme Court, doing their best to suppress any evidence that might hurt their nominee, and putting party before country, or even common sense. You saw what turned into a battle of ideology between both parties, rather than finding an impartial judge to sit on the highest court in the land and make rulings based on the Constitution. The death knell for impartiality sounded when you saw a judge, someone who is sworn to be impartial and uphold the law, launch into a screed about conspiracy theories on how the Democrats are sabotaging him as some form of revenge. It was a mockery of the system and process, of the senate hearings, of the law profession, of the Supreme Court itself, yet the entire Republican party is fine with it.
And of course, you can go online today and read an equal amount of stories in complete disagreement with each other on what happened yesterday. Some of it is opinion, and stated as such, but a lot of it is presented as actual journalism, as fact, and that is sad. You can find something somewhere from any dubious source that will tell you exactly what you want to hear, and there is nothing impartial about that at all.
So it is time we just admit that impartiality doesn’t exist anymore, if it ever did. At best, blatant bias and partiality was kept to a minimum by decorum and common decency, but no more. In fact, it doesn’t seem to exist in another place where it is vital, in law enforcement and in court, and some people seem to be quite happy about it. It doesn’t exist in education anymore, where schools are teaching biased curriculum and altering history. It doesn’t exist anywhere, and I don’t know how we move forward as a society and a nation without it when so many of our most important institutions depend on it.

Republicans are even more horrible than I thought. They do not care for women, or even view them as people. They had their minds made up before one word was even spoken. They had to have on outside woman come in to do their questioning, because they didn’t even trust themselves to speak to a woman, an abuse victim, without somehow betraying their misogyny and contempt. Republican politicians and their constituents are anti-women, pure and simple. Everything about their policies, their attitudes, their words and actions, shows it. If yesterday didn’t prove that to you beyond a shadow of a doubt, you are just too obtuse, brainwashed, self-hating, stupid, willfully ignorant, or misogynist yourself to see or admit it.
Republicans don’t care about the truth or the country or its people. They are hell bent on putting Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court because he will further help our treasonous president and the wealthy. They are pushing him through because they want to control women’s decisions about their own bodies, even though that issue was put to rest decades ago and is only important to a segment of their base that they pay lip service to for votes.
They are hypocrites. They talk about law and order, but they are constantly trying to discredit the justice department, and quash any calls for independent investigations into their criminal activity. You saw yesterday, when an accuser welcomed an FBI investigation, and the accused and his handlers did everything they could to avoid one. Who do you think is telling the truth, someone who wants as much light as possible shined on the issue, or someone who wants to keep it in the dark?
They are belligerent and combative, and they think that shouting and hysterics equals strength. They act like little children, throwing tantrums and shouting down opponents rather than trying to defend their position with reason and intelligent arguments. When you resort to that, you are basically admitting you have no compelling argument for your position or behavior.
Republicans are not very smart. I was struck at how dimwitted most of the Republican senators seemed yesterday. They seemed incapable of expressing themselves well, they seemed incapable of critical thinking, they seemed incapable of doing anything other than repeating the same tired talking points. They didn’t seem like they could understand simple ideas or statements. They just seemed old and dumb and sad, when they weren’t pouting and crying and yelling about having to explain themselves. At the risk of sounding like an elitist(who am I kidding, I am totally going to sound like an elitist), it’s no wonder they appeal so much to the uneducated and white trash in this country. They are mostly idiots who present themselves as classy and respetable. I was never a fan of Republicans, but there used to be a good portion of them that I at least respected on some level. There used to be some of the best and the brightest on their side, but now they all seem like hucksters and used car salesmen, who appeal to a bunch of blowhard losers.

A bunch of people who suddenly got interested in politics when Trump appeared on the scene are now tired of politics. There was a whole contingent of people who voted for Trump, some who were voting for the first time in their lives, because he simply seemed like a voice for them. Disillusioned with politics, stuck in a world that was passing them by and seemed to be getting worse day by day. They might have gotten their information from biased sources and propaganda, and it might have appealed to some racist or xenophobic tendencies, but they were not religious zealots or white supremacists. They were just somewhat naive when it came to politics and socioeconomic issues.
They are out, though. They want no part of it anymore. I noticed when Trump met with Putin, that they seemed to throw in the towel. Suddenly all the formerly political people on my feed who supported Trump were posting about how they were sick of political posts and wanted to go back to talking about music or movies or cats or whatever they were into before they got sucked into the whole political circus.
On the flip side, the same 30% or so that shows up in polls and supports whatever Trump and his cronies do, no matter how horrible, never really go away. Every other category in polls goes up and down, and changes with new information and actions, yet that 30% seems to always remain. They will simply dig in their heels, and stubbornly refuse to budge, from their positions or their mistakes. They are pretty much enemies of the state. They don’t care about the Constitution, they don’t care about rights or equality, they only want someone to pay for what they see as the downfall of our nation. They are wrong, and they are horrible citizens and people. They are outspoken fascists at worst and good Germans at best, and they are dragging us all down because they are so easily manipulated.

Some good news.

There are still a lot of people out there who are outraged, and will not accept this kind of garbage. They understand the issues, and they believe women when they say they were assaulted. They see through all the bullshit and the cheap tricks these thieves and liars throw at them. They are dead set on taking this country back from cretins and fascists, these crooks and shills infesting our government. There are still a lot of people out there, rich and poor, famous and unknown, who know what’s right and will keep fighting for it. Who will guard our country and our freedom and our ideals.
It is important to remember that regardless of the outcome, all is not lost. The Republicans have hurt themselves more than they helped their cause. Most people cling to this idea that a Supreme Court justice cannot be removed, but that is not true at all. When Democrats are back in control, they can impeach and remove Kavanaugh if so inclined. It would set a dangerous precedent, no doubt, but it can be done. If his accusers seek justice, he could end up on trial for attempted rape, and then it would be hard for Republicans to fight impeachment. The Constitution is an amazing document, and has served this country well for centuries. The Founding Fathers prepared for nearly every situation, and made it flexible and open to interpretation so it can adapt to whatever times we live in.
I have even more faith in my country and its people after yesterday. I saw so many smart, clever, funny, and enlightened responses to a horrible situation, so I am not discouraged about what is happening right now. I am outraged. I am frustrated. I am disgusted. But I am hopeful, because I see the big picture and the long game, and you should, too. If there is one thing history shows us, it’s that this country swings wildly from left to right and back again, and it will continue to do so. History also shows us that even though there are bad periods, we still progress. Look at the last century, and all the turmoil and strife and misery, but then compare it the progress we have made, and we have made so much. No one ever said it would be easy.

When I was a kid ...

When I was a kid, there was a sitcom about prisoners of war having fun, going on dates, and outwitting a bunch of goofy, lovable Nazis.

When I was a kid, there was a cartoon that centered around a horny skunk trying to rape a cat.

When I was a kid, there was a comic in the paper everyday about a drunk, British guy who would beat the shit out of his wife.

When I was a kid, there was a comic book about a girl with an eating disorder, and she ate way too much and suffered through a lot of fat jokes, but the more she ate, the stronger she got so could beat people up, so it was okay.

When I was a kid, the coolest guy in the world was a narcissistic TV character who used the threat of violence to solve problems, and went on incestuous dates with twins and triplets.

When I was a kid, there was a TV show about a dumb guy who was always screwing up, and when his wife pointed it out, he would threaten to punch her so hard she would fly to the moon.

When I was a kid, there was a cartoon about a mentally challenged cat who would annoy a bad tempered mouse she was in love with, so he would hit her in the head with bricks, and she would mistake that for a sign of affection.

When I was a kid, there was a comic book about a clinically depressed soldier forced to be in the army, and all the hilarious ways his life was miserable.

When I was a kid, a popular cartoon character was mumbling, cursing sailor whose answer to every problem was to eat spinach and beat the shit out of anyone he didn’t like.

When I was a kid, all the boys played with a doll that glorified war and being a soldier, and all the girls played with a doll that presented them with an unattainable standard of beauty.

When I was a kid, there were a lot of fucked up choices for entertainment, but now none of it looks that fucked up compared what's going on in the real life Republican party.

Teachers

     Anyone who knows me knows what a horrible time I had with school, what with the bullies and the moving, not to mention a lot of the boredom and repetition. Usually you won’t see me sticking up for school, and while I do believe our school systems leave a lot to be desired, I certainly don’t blame the teachers. I had some teachers that really made an impact on my life. Some for the worse, I won’t lie. Teachers are like any group of people, there are good ones and bad ones, and also exceptional ones.
     Elementary school grades 1-5 I went to Catholic school in New Jersey. My teachers were just fine, and honestly it never really dawned on me that a teacher could be anything but kind and helpful. Then 4th grade came along, and Mrs. Mouer. If you’re not sure how to pronounce that, it might help to know that we called her “sour Mouer” behind her back. She seemed to not care for teaching, or for children as well. She wasn’t a horrible person, or a horrible teacher, for that matter, but it was the first time in my life that I realized some people weren’t happy doing whatever thing in life they were doing. Up until that point, I didn’t even see teachers as fully realized people. I just saw them in their role in my life, as teachers. I can remember thinking, even at that young age, that maybe something was wrong in her life outside of school, and I actually started to feel a little bad for her.
     To this day, when I think of her, I mostly have an image of a woman who was dealing with something outside of school, like maybe an illness or a divorce. My father had recently had some serious medical issues, and I remember thinking that maybe her husband was in the hospital, like my father had been. So even Sour Mouer played a role in my life, and started me down that road to empathy. She really didn’t do anything wrong besides be unhappy in her job, and compared to other teachers down the line, she was a picnic.
     In fact, watching her do a job she didn’t find fulfilling, or in spite of the rest of her life falling apart, it taught me that a lot of life is just handling your responsibilities and getting things done. She seemed to expect more, and was a little harder on us than most, but I suppose she was as hard on herself, so we didn’t complain too much. 

      When I think back on those years, the rest of my teachers were kind and happy and pretty exuberant about their jobs, but I really couldn’t tell you a lot about them besides the fact that they seemed like what I expected teachers to be. But I just spent a few paragraphs describing the one teacher that wasn’t what you expect a teacher to be, so that must mean something. At least she made a lasting impression, so thank you for that.
     Then I went to Texas for two years, and some of the teachers out there were downright cruel. They mocked me for not being from Texas, or for playing sports, and they paddled kids with what was essentially a cricket bat for the most minor infractions, as well as the male teachers being flirty and inappropriate with some of the female students. We’re talking 6th and 7th grade here. In fact, there was only one teacher who I can look back on and say that they actually seemed to care about me as a student, and I’m sad to say that I can’t even remember her name.
     Almost all of my memories of school life in Texas are painful and traumatic ones, but I had a teacher who actually tried to make my life better. She was constantly telling me that I could do better, and I should apply myself more. She often pointed out that my mistakes were careless ones, not because I didn’t know the work. She knew I wasn’t having an easy time of it, although I don’t think she could have known the extent of the torment I was dealing with. Knowing I had that one class where I got a little reprieve from the hell that was the rest of the school day, and that someone in the school actually gave a shit if I was living up to my potential helped me tremendously. 

     She didn’t have to care at all, and that was when I first realized that the polar opposite of Mrs Mouer existed, someone who went out of their way to make a students life better. You have no idea how much it bothers me that I can’t even remember her name, but I think I consciously blocked out so many memories from those two years. The main takeaway is that even in that hell, a teacher made a positive impact on my life.
     I should also mention that I took private art lessons in Texas, and that was wonderful. Mrs. Linda Fagan was my art teacher, and she was amazing. She was kind of a frumpy, overtly Christian housewife. Lessons were in her living room, and then moved to a studio over her garage for the second year. The thing is, she was an amazing artist, and so inspiring and encouraging. She taught oil and acrylic painting, and pencil and pastel drawing, still life, landscapes, animals, portraits, you name it.
     I started with painting, and when she first met me she suggested acrylic because she didn’t think I would have the patience for oils. She was right. After the first few weeks of teaching technique, she let each student decide what they wanted to paint, so you would have a whole class of kids all working on something completely different. It didn’t feel like lessons at all, it felt like freedom and creation and was just joyous. 

     After a year of painting, I decided that wasn’t fast enough, so I switched to pencil and pastels. She didn’t miss a beat, and continued to teach me and encourage me to find what made me want to draw, not what she thought I should draw. She was the first teacher who made a really huge difference in my life, and whenever I pick up a pencil, I think of her.
     Then we moved to Pennsylvania, and high school came along, and that was a real horrorshow. I got bullied and picked on, and treated like crap by most of the other kids. A lot of the teachers were okay, but most of them seemed like they were just doing a job, nothing more. A few stand out, though, and made an impact on my life whether they knew it or not. 

     My grades had started going steadily downhill since leaving Jersey. When I was young, it was almost a foregone conclusion that I was going on to college, and destined for some greater things. I tested really high, I was getting A’s and B’s, and there was even talk of skipping me ahead a grade. By the time highschool rolled around, I was having anxiety attacks and stomach cramps, and generally wishing I was dead. It was going to be a battle just getting me through highschool alive and passing, let alone being valedictorian.
     The first teacher who really made an impression on me was Mr. Smith, my english teacher. He was very effeminate; and whether he was or not, the kids decided he was gay. They would mock him and make jokes about him mercilessly. 1980 in a rural Pennsylvania school is much different than it is today. No one was concerned with the rights of gay people, even their right to exist. 

It was hell on earth some days for Mr. Smith to simply do what he loved doing, to teach. Regardless of how the kids treated him, he rose above it all, and still had an enthusiasm for his subject and for teaching children. One day, after a particularly cruel joke, I watched him go out to the hall, holding back tears, to compose himself. He came back in a few minutes later, and went right back to teaching. He never gave anyone the satisfaction of seeing him break or changing who he was.
     He was always positive. He knew I wasn’t having an easy time of it, and I remember once when I had to give an oral report on Animal Farm. I was a mess all week, thinking about getting up in front of that class. I couldn’t even write the report I was supposed to read, and I stayed home sick most of the week trying to get out of it. I would have been happy to just get an F and be done with it. I just made it worse, because when I came back to school, even though the other students had all given their reports the week before, he still expected me to give mine. So I ended up getting in front of the class, with no notes, and giving a really half-assed book report. I couldn’t tell you much about it, because I was breaking out in a cold sweat and the room was spinning the entire time.
     When I got back to my seat, he critiqued me, and I remember it being the nicest, most understanding, and gentle critique I ever got from a teacher. He told me what I could have done better, but then he mentioned how I went up there without notes, and he said that showed I knew the subject and was brave, and even though I could have explained the plot better, he could tell by what I did say that I understood the book and its meaning, so for that he gave me a C+. Trust me, I was there, that report was not worth anything over a D-.
     What he was telling me was that he got it, he knew how hard it was for me, and he knew I understood what I was reading. He made sure to hit some positives that I could take with me, and give me some praise in front of the class to take away some of the embarrassment and sting of flailing away up there in front of my peers. I was way ahead of most of the kids my age when it came to reading, and I learned a lot more about life than I learned about grammar and literature from Mr Smith, and that was what I needed more at that point in my life. He saw that, and never made it about his terms, he made it about mine, even as he was dealing with a lot of shit himself.
     Mr. Helinski was my chemistry teacher, and he really seemed to like chemistry, teaching, and life. He was who he was, and he didn’t seem to care what you thought of that. He was fun, but knowledgeable, and he made learning interesting. He would kid around with me, but never pick on me.
     One of the best things he ever did might sound foolish to you, but it made a difference in my life. On the last day of school before Christmas break, most of the classes were free period. On that day, he brought in his Tom Lehrer records, and played us the element song. Most of the kids could care less, and he could care less about that. A few of us really liked it, and we sat up front hanging out with him and listening to Tom Lehrer.
     The thing was, Mr. Helinski wasn’t what anyone would consider cool. He wasn’t worried about winning you over, he simply seemed to be who he was, and he was fine with that. He took chemistry seriously, and expected you to as well, but it was still fun and laid back when he taught it to you. He never tried to single you out or make any power plays. He was all inclusive, he didn’t seem to favor anyone, and was kind of in awe that he seemed to be so confident without making a point out of being confident.
     Mr. Terhune was my english teacher for senior year. He was probably the closest thing to a college professor I ever had. His classes were pretty open, and he would stray from the curriculum at times. He also seemed to see something in me that most people didn’t.
     The first time I noticed was when we were reading Beowulf. We weren’t really far into the book, and he asked what any of us thought about it so far. I was one of those kids who hid in the back, and never raised my hand. He would still call on you anyway, because that’s what teachers should do. Get you involved, even if you don’t want to be. I would tend to hang back after class, and ask the teacher one on one, and most of them hated that. Mr. Terhune was okay with it, but he would still prod me to speak up in class.
     So he made a point out of asking me what I thought about Beowulf, and I told him. I said I was bored with it, because Beowulf seemed invincible. He seemed like Superman, and Superman was pretty impervious to everything. I liked Batman. Batman could get punched, and it hurt. He could get shot and die. I felt like Beowulf was just hero worship, and I didn’t find a lot of drama there. Then I held my breath, shocked that I just said all that in front of a classroom full of kids, let alone tore apart a piece of classic literature.
     He then exclaimed “Thank God! I’ve been teaching this old, boring thing forever and felt the exact same way. Good job, Ferraris. Everyone go home, read the book, we’ll take a quiz, and move onto something better!”
     The kids seemed happy about that too, and for once I felt like everyone in the room didn’t hate me.
     One other thing he did was come up with the funniest grammar test I have ever taken. He wrote it in the form of a story, about a kid who wanted tickets to see the Doobie Brothers, so he robbed a store or a bank to get money. It ended with him running from the police and being shot from behind. You had to go through the story and correct all the grammar. For extra credit, he told us we could finish the story on the back of the test any way we saw fit.
      I was done pretty quickly, so I started writing. I filled up the back of the test, telling how the bullet didn’t kill him, and he made it home. He got a gun from his father’s rifle case, and held the police at bay, eventually hitting a gas line and blowing up the entire neighborhood. I was a pretty damaged kid at this point. So whatever, I turned in my paper and went to my next class.
     The next day, I had kids I barely knew telling me how much they liked my story. I had know idea what they were talking about or how they even knew. When I got to class, Mr. Terhune handed us back our tests. He was talking about how only half the class bothered to do the extra credit part, but informed us that one student went above and beyond and wrote something amazing. He looked at me and said “Good job, Mr. Ferraris,” and then read my story to the class, as he had done to all of his classes so far that day.
     I was terrified but proud, and I think some of the kids looked at me with respect, and some of them became a little scared of me. He paused at one point, and commended me on using the proper version or lay or lie, whichever it was. He told me that he wasn’t going to give me my test back, he wanted to keep it for himself, to share with future classes.
      I had been writing stuff before that, but this was the first time anyone had ever read any of it, let alone heard it read out loud. It would still be a long time until I started showing people my work, but when I did, I still think back on that incident and how the world didn’t end, and people didn’t come after me with pitchforks. In fact, some people actually liked it. I now share my writing on the internet with everyone, and a lot of that started with Mr. Terhune. Before that moment, I thought I was wasting my time. I thought I would get over being a writer, and forget about it completely. Because of that, I was encouraged to keep going. Today I am a writer because a teacher gave me praise and recognition, and I could never thank him enough for that.
     I didn’t make it in the end. I dropped out of high school in 12th grade, with only a few months to go. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wouldn’t have graduated anyway, because of gym credits, of all things. I would have had to make it up in summer school or something, so I just walked away.
     Well, not quite. For some reason, they made me go to each of my teachers to have them sign some card to make it official that I was dropping all their classes. I think it was more to humiliate me than anything else. I remember I came up with something to tell each of them when they asked me why I was leaving, and the best I could do was say “I’m off to conquer the world by my own hand.”
     I don’t know what that meant, but I thought it was some kind of fitting epitaph to my school life. It felt defiant, and powerful and confident. When I got to Mr Terhune’s room, I had already said it a few times, and was starting to feel foolish. I wished I could stop saying it, but it was almost like an OCD thing at that point. He asked me what I was going to do, so I uttered my stupid phrase, and he just looked at me. He told me that he believed that I could. He wished I would stay in school, but he understood why I couldn’t. He told me that I was smart, and talented, and destined for greater things, and he took out the test from months earlier, and said I could have it to remember what I was capable of. I told him to keep it, I didn’t need it to know that, and besides, I liked that I was leaving something behind here, even if it was just a stupid story about a kid who blew up his block in a bid to see a concert.
     And then I left, and I never really looked back. It was scary and exhilarating, and besides my typing skills, the only thing I took from school that really stuck with me is what I learned from a handful of teachers who touched my life. There were others along the way. Some offered me encouragement, some went that extra mile, and even though it didn’t really pan out for me in the end, I appreciate that they tried to educate me, even when I resisted.
     My niece is a teacher now, and a really good one, and I am so proud of her. Her students love her, and she goes above and beyond when it comes to her job. It is more than a job, it is a passion, how teaching should be.
      There is a war on education in this country, and like most things that the government does that hurt the working class, it is led by Republicans. I’m not really making a political post here, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t point that out. Teachers are struggling, students are struggling, and that’s by design. There is money to be made in privatizing education, and putting money before students is a very bad idea. They are trying to starve the beast, and make public schools appear worse than charter schools. They are ruining our education system just to bleed more money out of us and our children.
     They are quick to cut budgets, and school taxes, because they are unpopular. Selfish people cry that they have to pay school tax when they don’t have children, which is shortsighted, and frankly, disgusting. We work for the good of all of us, and if you don’t want to contribute to the education of this country’s children, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have kids, and I have no problem with it.
     So here’s to teachers. I am sure everyone has a story to tell about some teacher who made a difference in their lives. For all the grief they get, they deserve a lot more praise, not to mention money. Teachers are the people molding and informing our future generations. Teachers are nearly as big a part of their life as you are. Why would we want to have them struggling and hamstrung? Give them what they need to teach better. Support them, vote for bigger budgets and better conditions, more equipment and smaller class sizes. Investing in teachers is investing in ourselves and our children, our country and our future.
     And this is coming from someone who hated school and dropped out. I wish I hadn’t, but there are problems with our education system, like I said. But like I also said, the things that made it worthwhile for me were the teachers.

Legacy

Things 9/11 was:

A terrorist attack

A tragedy

An event that changed the way we looked at the world, and how safe we felt from that day forward.


What it was not:

A conspiracy perpetrated by our own government or some New World Order


What is was turned into:

Some weird, macabre national holiday that can be monetized and exploited

A rallying cry for casual patriots

An excuse to rob us of our freedoms, silence questions about accountability, start hugely profitable wars, and in the process create far more terrorists at home and abroad

School Days

Seeing all the posts lately about kids going back to school reminds me of when I had to go to kindergarten for the first time. Up until that day, my life was pretty good. I had a few friends, but mostly I got to hang out with my mom and watch TV and play with my toys. Life seemed pretty sweet.
Then one day my mom walked me up the block and tried to hand me off to some strangers. I was having none of that. I grabbed onto a sign or a telephone pole and clung for dear life. I cried and screamed, and eventually had to be dragged into the school, kicking and flailing away.
It was all downhill from there.
That’s when my stomach aches started. That’s when I first noticed stress and anxiety. That’s when my OCD first started to manifest. The other kids picked up on it all too, so kindergarten is where I started getting bullied and picked on and made to feel like I didn’t belong. It only got worse, because once you become that person, it’s hard to change that perception, in others or yourself.
School was never fun for me, and everyone who knows me knows all the horror stories of what I had to deal with until I finally dropped out of high school. I try not to use any of it as an excuse or a crutch, but I would be lying if I said it all didn’t leave some kind of mark on me. Every thought and decision and action is still somewhat dictated on how I felt in my school years. There are times when I still feel like I did when I was a kid in class, terrified that I was about to get picked on or brutalized. On rare occasions, I still feel panic attacks coming on in simple situations like going to the store or standing in line at the bank.
This is not to make any of you who have kids starting kindergarten nervous or frightened, most kids are pretty well adjusted these days. They have already been exposed to daycare and preschool and such. Kids today have a lot more access to activities and people and the world than some of us did back in the day.
Maybe take a little extra time though to ask how your kids are doing, and listen to what they tell you. I didn’t want to burden my parents with what was happening, because I was embarrassed and felt like a failure. It didn’t matter that I knew that my parents loved me, they were supposed to love me. As far as I knew, the other kids were being honest and telling me like it really was, that I was ugly and stupid and should go kill myself. When you’re five years old, you really can’t make those determinations for yourself.
So do your kids a favor, and make sure that they know that they are good and smart. Make sure they know you are there for them, and will protect them. Make sure that they understand that some kids are just horrible, like some adults, probably through no fault of their own, but because they are being raised in horrific conditions. When I got older, I saw that many of my bullies had alcoholic and abusive parents, and it trickled down to them, and then to me.
Be an active part of your child’s life. They will thank you for it later, trust me.