It starts with nothing... or does it?
As i walk into this place, i have a odd feeling of curiosity running through my mind. I look around and see colorful artwork, new people, laughter, harmonius song, catchy phrases on posters that motivate the students. I see the students, I see their faces; Why is grimace the most striking emotion I see? As a young boy my feelings about school were juvenile, strictly friends, food and recess. As much as I was hoping for my way of thinking to always stay the same, i knew at that moment things would change.
I walked through a long dark hallway lined with doors, posters, the educational artwork, current and future activities. As i walk i check each lock with a quick jiggle of the handle. I find an open one and find myself curiously walking into an empty room, basically to escape and collect myself before I had to trail back out into the front atrium and put on a "good face" as mother would say. I didn't want to be here, I didn't want all this god damned attention. I hated being the new face in the crowd, with all the questions, answers and seemingly fake interest. Despite my disdain, I knew how to handle these situations, only because it's all happened before. As I made my way back to the front atrium, a sudden pop in my neck caused a rush of anxiety and adrenaline to hit my brain. I almost had to hesitate against the wall, feeling as if I was going to die. After what seemed like an eternity of crippling pain and fear, I regained myself and was able to try and get this over with so I could just go home and sleep.
Entering the front atrium, a huge herd of heads looked my way. I trained my eyes in another direction almost immediately. I tried to find the distinct patterned dress my mother had worn out of the house, as if she had someone to impress. Regardless this was going to be her new job and source of income, she was only a cook. Wouldn't you think if you were a cook and wanted to impress your new boss, you'd wear your nicest chefs coat and hat? I mentioned this to her as we were on our way out of the new house, she called me a fool and told me to go get her a soda. I walked back in the front door and stopped. I seemed to forget what my task was, or why i even walked back in here. A quick walk around of the house refreshed my mind and i remembered the soda, but then i remembered what my mother said.
"A fool? I'll show her a fool."
I tapped my mother on the back, she refused to acknowledge me. I tapped her twice more, still no acknowledgment. As i have learned in my short time on earth; Third times the charm, in this case, for a beating. This community supports corporal punishment, unlike the last place we resided. Mother had to be selective and discreet with the punishment, for one specific reason. They were savage and ruthless, any form of a strike was acceptable. I learned how far my mother can be pushed, and i used this to my advantage. You see my mother is a stress giver, she can't seem to control herself given the right frustrating circumstances. So i always pushed, i never gave up, i stopped only briefly to avoid the flying objects or shoe beatings. I always got what i needed, because in my eyes all wants are needs. Often for material things, but mostly for my thoughts and opinions. I did not want to be educated, i wanted to educate myself with experience and trial and error. I wanted to be a free spirit and create. All this will be achieved, but not overnight, not even within the decade.
