An Almost-Forgotten Memory
I copy/pasted this story from my blog Freedom From Earthstains, originally written on 27 April 2018, but I wanted to share it here. Oh, and I’ve used original names.
Way back in the 1960’s, from second to fourth grade, I attended Mary Calcott Elementary School in Norfolk, Virginia. I still remember a few of my classmates’ names. Cindy was the prettiest girl in class, and her best friend was Barbara. There was Laurel and Tammy, Dan the preacher’s son, Bucky and Jay and Richard. One name, Michael, has been burned on my soul, and is a big part of the reason I’m in therapy today. In short, he was the school bully, and I’m honestly surprised he didn’t kill me. Lord knows, he tried. Maybe if I hadn’t moved at the end of fourth grade, he might have.
We moved as a group from grade to grade, and today that feels like the best and the worst of Mayberry life. Miss Arnold was my second grade teacher. She was the typical southern belle–beautiful, talented, sweet. Every boy in class hoped to marry her one day, and every girl wanted to grow up to be just like her. My father lamented, “Why don’t you get yourself in trouble so I can go in and talk to your teacher?” He always said this when my mother was present, with a leer I didn’t understand at the time. It also escaped me why such a statement would make my mother so angry, or what she was blaming me…
