I never talked back...ever. I still don't, and probably never will because whenever I see other people talk balk to teachers, coaches and other adults I always get that awkward feeling that makes me wan't to leave the area. I don't like confrontation, and you'll never see me seeking it. This is a lesson I learned back in the sixth grade, a lesson I learned the hard way. In front of the entire sixth grade class...
Physical education, especially in elementary school, is a joke. I don't even need to explain why, because everybody knows that there has never been a single kid who has overcome his weight issue becasue of a rigorous P.E. course. My elementary school, Mountain Avenue Elementary, had a P.E. teacher named Ms. MeanLady. We had P.E. three days a week and every single time we would go I was scared crapless. To me, the ultimate mark of failure and humiliation came from having a teacher get mad at you. Ms. MeanLady was the last teacher in the world who you wanted mad at you. She could stare down a mountain lion and just by barking a single angry syllable, make it stab itself in the heart. So when one day in the sixth grade, she gave us the assignment to bring the fitness sheets we had been given to the next P.E. class, I was sure to make a mental note to not forget to do so. Well to no suprise of my own now that I look back at it, I forgot to bring the fitness sheet the next class. As I sat in my line while she took attendance I began to get really nervous and scared about what my punishment would be for forgetting. I wanted to run away. When she was done with attendance she stood up in front of the class and asked everyone who had remembered to bring their sheet to hold it up. "oh no oh no oh no oh no" I thought, "i'm done for, I just know it, there's no way out of this. what are they serving for lunch today? oh no oh no oh no." But then as I looked around I realized that only half the class had brought the fitness sheet, which means half of the class didn't. This sent joyous hope rushing to my heart.
If there is one thing that every school kid knows it is that there is safety in numbers. You know that if you didn't do your homework, as long as most people also didn't do it then you knew wouldn't get in trouble. There was no way that I would get in trouble with Ms. MeanLady if i was only one of twenty who didn't do as instructed. I could see that she was upset that so many people didn't bring the sheet but there wasn't really anything she could do. She got her clipboard and told everyone who didn't bring the sheet to come up and sign her paper.
Well, having been newly inspired by the mass defiance I had just witnessed and having a lesson on the signing of the Declaration of Independence fresh in my mind, I proudly walked to the front and pulled a John Hancock. I signed my name really big in all caps like this: JACOB WALTERS. I guess I did it to show that I was not ashamed of forgetting my fitness sheet and that I would not be intimidated by Ms. MeanLady and her very stong upper body. Class went on it's way without incident and pretty soon it was time to line up again so we could be dismissed.
When people ask if you could go back and change something about your life, what would it be, this is one of those times i would change. I knew something was up when she didn't immediatley dismiss us after we lined up. She took a long look at her clipboard and in her deepest most scariest voice said, "Where is Jacob Walters?" The four scariest words I have ever heard in my life.
I timidly rose my hand and her sunglassed eyes focused on my quivering, pudgy countenance.
"Come here." she said. I did. She took of her sunglasses and shoved the clipboard in my face. She pointed to my extremely large signature and asked, "What is this?" "My name." I replied. Then she really tore into me:
"Yes I can see that, this is depsicable, completely ridiculous. Look at how your classmates signed, nice and neat! This looks like a first grader wrote this! Who do you think you are? Thomas Jeffereson?"(I think she meant John Hancock, and I wanted to correct her but I didn't think it was a good time for a history lesson.) She went on for a bit and got right up in my face. She wasn't saying this quietly either, she was legitimately yelling two feet from my face in front of the entire class. I have never felt so humiliated. Not even when I farted while doing situps while the girl I liked was holding my feet was I as embarrased as that moment when Ms. MeanLady tore apart my dignity. She ended with an arm gesture and a sharp "Sit down!". I hung my head and walked back to my place.
It is this experience that made me promise that I would never yell at a little kid becasue it made me feel terrible, and really didn't accomplish anything at all. She wasted her time harshly yelling at a good kid and made him feel really bad inside. Maybe I was oversensitive but still, she was out of line.
I have however always been careful how I sign my name on things since then. The last thing I want is the bank teller yelling at me for writing like a first grader. Oh wait, that's right, normal people who aren't bitter becasue they are Elementary School P.E. teachers don't care how I write.
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