Friday, September 23, 2011

Have I Ever Told You About Missus Gilgrease?

I'm a walking contradiction. I am a rather loud person, yet I don't like to ruffle feathers of the powers that be. You would think a loud person would be a raucous raiser, but I'm not. I would rather poke out my own eyeballs than break a rule. Nauseating, I know.

The times in my life that I've broken rules or somehow landed in trouble are seared into my memory bank, never to be extracted. Never, ever to be extracted.

I went to kindergarten in a suburb of Dallas. I don't know how I survived school there. A 5 year old in a honkin' huge school. School buses forever. Everyday I prayed I would make it on to the right bus. I still have anxiety over it.

I can remember my first introduction to my now addiction. Books. Library. Books. Our class went to the library for the first time, and I was overwhelmed by it's beauty. There were staircases to other levels of the library and ladders that you had to climb to retrieve your beloved, chosen book. It was wonderful.

Somewhere in this school was Missus Gilcrease. {in my head she was Missus KILL GREASE--much more terrifying} My head has her associated with the library and the office but I'm having trouble giving her a title. Here's her title. Meanie Pants. There.

In our school, we were not allowed to speak during lunch. Is that a rule? You could bet your boots, I was not going to speak.

But Jenny would. Oh, Miss Cool Jenny. She didn't have to mind the rules. So, Miss Cool Jenny was sitting by me as I had my lunch pulled out of my Care Bear lunchbox sipping on orange Hi-C in my matching thermos when she had the audacity to ask if I wanted something out of her lunch. I shook my head no. {shook my head, no speech} Missus Kill Grease pounced. She had heard it. Spinning around with her narrowing eyes, she asked who spoke. My mouth opened in horror. I thought I would be sick right there. "You, on the wall!" She said it to me. Me?

I cried and cried and cried. I was in trouble. On the wall. In trouble! In front of hundreds of students. Every eye on me. {not really, but at that time I was sure they were}

I adamantly denied being the guilty party. I don't think Missus Kill Grease had ever had such a hysterically innocent child on her hands. She changed her mind about making me stay on the wall and sent me out to play with my class. Sure, that fixed it right? My friends wouldn't play with me because "I was supposed to be on the wall"....I had been branded. A giant, scarlet T on my chest for Talker.

I sat on the sidewalk and began to feel sorry for myself. Missus Kill Grease came up and asked why I wasn't playing. I think inside she realized she was being filed away as villain for eternity in my heart. What she had done, she could not undo.

The school day was finally over. I somehow made it through the sea of yellow onto the right bus which delivered me to my mother. I didn't talk, worn out from the day. Momma always checked my lunch to see what I had eaten. She was startled to see that I hadn't eaten anything. I recounted my story and my mother, who is opposite of me and not afraid to raise a raucous, called the school the next day. Missus Kill Grease never bothered me again.

I steered clear of her until our paths met once more. The last day of school. The school gave out awards for an array of reasons. In our kindergarten class, my name was called over the inner com that I had won an award for being a exemplary student and should go to Missus Gilcrease's office to pick up my award.

Instead of feeling anxious about coming face to face with Meanie Pants again, I was thrilled. This woman was going to have to hand over an acceptance that I was amazing. I walked in and she said, "Adelia, there you are. Here you go! You're such a good girl." I took my bag of small toys and candy and gave her a look of told you so and left. Never to see Missus Gilcrease again. Except in my head where she has a permanent residence.

As far as Jenny. She wanted to be my friend. I never let her in my friendship circle. She got me into trouble. Unforgivable.

Here are my wise words of advice. Heed them well, friends don't talk to friends in the lunchroom.

Remember that and you'll live a long and happy life.

{This post inspired by Mama Kat's pretty much world famous writer's workshop}
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