Sundries

 

A velvet Carnaby Street jacket, circa 1968 -ebay

Lately, I've been remembering my childhood, and how I was in such a hurry to grow up and become someone not me. I couldn't wait to grow up, leave home, and join the swinging 60's in England, the favored place to jetty my imagination. First, I should say I had a wonderful childhood in many ways: lots of freedom, woods nearby for a good part of it, fun cousins, loving and fairly hands-off parents and grandparents. Most of my problems came from my time in school. I didn't pay a lot of attention in school, and was often reminded of that by my teachers. I'd regularly come to after the crucial information had been delivered, arising from daydreams about meeting the Beatles in London, climbing into pumpkin carriages, riding horses in the fog with a cute boy, finding real wishing wells.  I was dumbfounded by the kids who got good grades! I knew I wasn't dumb, but I figured just as well that I wasn't smart. Smart kids got better grades than I did. When the teachers gave our work back, you could tell who'd gotten the 100's. I can still feel myself thinking, "Sheesh, not again," and looking around at the other kids who'd gotten better grades. I wondered what their secret was. I never asked them. I was probably too embarrassed. I wasn't aware of my trouble paying attention being a problem. One of the main things I disliked about school was the discomfort of it, the horrible desks, schedules, and bells. There were the few mean girls, tormenting other girls, too. I find it odd, now that I teach elementary shool, to watch the budding mean girls. I was working with a first grade girl the other day who mocked her classmate's stutter, then later when telling me about her drawing, said, thoughtfully, "I just don't like people who aren't pretty." I didn't know what to say. Did she just sum up the whole mean girl trip? So, yes, personality dramatics were a trial, but worse, was the fear of being made to feel dumb about not listening or following along. I know now, that I was the daydreaming ADD subtype. I liked reading stories and biographies, great fodder, spelling and geography, loved words and places, hated math. Science and history would interest me sometimes. Mostly, history (dates?!) would bore me until college, when I had instructors who brought it to life. Throughout my childhood, though, I was a terribly daydreaming, absent minded kid. My saving grace was that I tested very well on the standardized tests. In my day to day classes, I was often reminded that I was not in that group I thought I'd be happy in. The straight A kids. I wish there had been an adult in my life that could have helped me feel less bad about it all, Instead, I'd pacify myself with an imaginary adventure a'la Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, a Kinks song, What's New Pussycat, paisley dresses, and waking up with amnesia in a house along Francis Park....

PS I support those of you unschooling your children.

~Dorothy Dolores