The Struggle - Year Two

My third grade teacher was as gentle as the dew-kissed petals of a rose on Sunday morning.  I was still the only one who looked like me in my class, but at least this teacher did not pinch my shoulder or glare in my face.  Friends were not a priority.  I only wanted to do my best so that I could gain her approval.  My grades improved to a place that was similar to my first grade experience, and I remember just working hard.  Self-confidence was alien to me, as I was also the "fat girl."  But I could look forward to school because of the kind face that sat behind the teacher's desk.

Recess was not my friend.  Even if we had an organized game of kickball, I was always the last one chosen to be on a team.  If we played "red rover" no one ever asked for me to be sent over.

My parents had a new challenge to meet - my younger brother was now in a first grade class with a teacher fixed upon labeling him "crazy" because he shook his leg as he concentrated while working.  Only as an adult did he admit that the teacher ignored him in that class, and coldness was the norm.  We never heard about that in our home at night.  He wanted to please also, but eventually found that the only way to get attention was to "act out."  Needless to say, he was not successful in first grade.

I had three older sisters.  The twins were sophomores that year, and one was in the sixth grade.  Through my eyes, everything seemed perfect for them, and I wished that I could feel accepted like they seemed to have been.