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Learning To Lie
The transition to public school in Chula Vista, California from a Private International Catholic School in Japan was mind boggling. Going from wearing a uniform, having strict rules and etiquette to a completely different social structure and hierarchy even in 3rd grade caused an abrupt reality check.
In Japan, where Art was as important of a subject as Mathematics if you weren't feeling particularly inspired or creative it was completely normal to be allowed to get up and walk respectfully around in the classroom to look at what other students were doing. This was definitely not allowed or even heard of in the California Public School system.
When the teacher yelled at me in front of the whole class, appalled by the behavior which prompted me trying to explain....it only served to label me as a trouble maker who was also disrespectful.
Not only was I reprimanded but I was also forced to physically move my desk out to the middle of the covered walkway between classrooms, where all the older children in higher grade levels could walk around me and make fun of the spectacle. Not at all a beneficial or motivating effect on the student.
To top it off, communicating respectfully amongst yourselves during assignments was also unheard of and there was absolutely no talking of any kind allowed.
A note on my report card prompted some bizarre severe punishment that I will never forget. It still feels as though it happened to someone else. As if I was watching it in a movie...
I was told ahead of time, to meet in the garage after school before coming into the house.
The variety of scare tactics had already started to effect me in so many adverse ways.
As I dreadfully came into the garage after school on the first day of my punishment, I was asked if I spoke in school that day when it wasn't my turn to speak.
I answered honestly, of course and said yes. I was asked to put my things down. To pull my panties down and lay across his lap.
I had never experienced anything remotely similar in my life. Third grade was a bizarre experience but this was the stuff of nightmares.
He raised his hand high, swung down and hit my exposed behind hard. At first, I didn't feel anything. Then, it started to sting. I didn't make a sound. He waited, then struck me again. It began to burn. I hated him with all my might, as he waited. Then he struck again. I couldn't hold back anymore. I let out a sound that was something between a scream and a yell.
Where was my mother? Why was no one protecting me? What had I ever done to deserve this? It didn't matter. No one cared.
After being struck several times, the pain was more like deep bruises. It didn't sting anymore. He stood me up, shook me by the shoulders and yelled that I would stop talking. Also, some nonsense that was angrily spat out about how he loved me.
It kind of sickens me now.
This happened every day, until after the 3rd day I decided to lie.
I had hand prints on my backside. Bruises that no one saw, that made it very uncomfortable to sit in my seat all day at school.
I will never forget being forced to lie, and I will never forgive either.
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In Japan, where Art was as important of a subject as Mathematics if you weren't feeling particularly inspired or creative it was completely normal to be allowed to get up and walk respectfully around in the classroom to look at what other students were doing. This was definitely not allowed or even heard of in the California Public School system.
When the teacher yelled at me in front of the whole class, appalled by the behavior which prompted me trying to explain....it only served to label me as a trouble maker who was also disrespectful.
Not only was I reprimanded but I was also forced to physically move my desk out to the middle of the covered walkway between classrooms, where all the older children in higher grade levels could walk around me and make fun of the spectacle. Not at all a beneficial or motivating effect on the student.
To top it off, communicating respectfully amongst yourselves during assignments was also unheard of and there was absolutely no talking of any kind allowed.
A note on my report card prompted some bizarre severe punishment that I will never forget. It still feels as though it happened to someone else. As if I was watching it in a movie...
I was told ahead of time, to meet in the garage after school before coming into the house.
The variety of scare tactics had already started to effect me in so many adverse ways.
As I dreadfully came into the garage after school on the first day of my punishment, I was asked if I spoke in school that day when it wasn't my turn to speak.
I answered honestly, of course and said yes. I was asked to put my things down. To pull my panties down and lay across his lap.
I had never experienced anything remotely similar in my life. Third grade was a bizarre experience but this was the stuff of nightmares.
He raised his hand high, swung down and hit my exposed behind hard. At first, I didn't feel anything. Then, it started to sting. I didn't make a sound. He waited, then struck me again. It began to burn. I hated him with all my might, as he waited. Then he struck again. I couldn't hold back anymore. I let out a sound that was something between a scream and a yell.
Where was my mother? Why was no one protecting me? What had I ever done to deserve this? It didn't matter. No one cared.
After being struck several times, the pain was more like deep bruises. It didn't sting anymore. He stood me up, shook me by the shoulders and yelled that I would stop talking. Also, some nonsense that was angrily spat out about how he loved me.
It kind of sickens me now.
This happened every day, until after the 3rd day I decided to lie.
I had hand prints on my backside. Bruises that no one saw, that made it very uncomfortable to sit in my seat all day at school.
I will never forget being forced to lie, and I will never forgive either.
© All Rights Reserved
