Posts Tagged ‘unforgiveable’

1966 was an interesting year for me. I was in fourth grade and not the most popular person at the school.  We had just moved to that neighborhood during Spring break.  On my first day of school, I was walked to my classroom which was empty and told that my class was on a field trip that day so I would have to spend the school day in another fourth grade class. I did and when school was out, I still hadn’t met my teacher or any of my new classmates because the field trip was an out of town one so the bus wouldn’t be back until later.  Not only did I not get to meet my class and teacher, but I had to go through the “first day” twice.  And to top it off, I missed a field trip to one of the California missions.

I had left a school where I had a lot of friends and good teachers so to come into a school where I had no friends and no history with any of the teachers was frustrating.  It stayed that way for the rest of the year and then through sixth grade.  I never made many friends.  I was the odd one out.  I knew a few people but they were in other classes and they didn’t play with me or hang out with me at school.  My older sister’s friends accepted me so I knew them but they weren’t in my class either.

I’m pretty sure the girls in my class didn’t want to hang out with me because something horrible happened.  It was about a month after I started attending that school. I was sitting in class and when I got up to go to recess, I felt the back of my dress stick to me.  I pulled it away then I felt it was wet.  I didn’t know what it was.  I knew I had not wet myself.  So I stood against the wall all during recess.  The rest of the day went on like normal, but I was aware of everyone staring at me. Even my teacher stared but she didn’t say anything.  I went up to the board during math to solve a problem.  No one said a word to me about my dress. Then it was time to go home and I walked home.  When I arrived home, I went into the bathroom and realized that the wetness I had felt was blood.  I didn’t know what was going on.  No one had told me anything to let me know that at some point I would bleed.  After that day, I wore my heavy coat in class all day.  I even wore it during P.E. to run around and to play ball in. I wore it every day left in fourth grade and every day in fifth grade until we saw the movie that explained what was going on. Then I knew to count the day.

To this day I cannot get over the fact that the teacher said not one word about it.  Not that day.  Not on any other days after it happened.

Inspired by a prompt in The Daily Post: Dig through your couch cushions, your purse, or the floor of your car and look at the year printed on the first coin you find. What were you doing that year?

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