When I hit third grade, I hit the BIG-time! I was no longer able to ride the bus to school, because Meriwether (can't remember spelling?) School was close enough for us to walk (a little less than a mile if I recall). Mom was extra-protective, and was concerned about us crossing Georgia Street (our main street) to get to the school. So, for the first few weeks, or maybe months, she walked us across Georgia Street, and then went back to wait for me at the old Kroger building to walk me home. Eventually, though, I attained independence, and was allowed to walk the whole way with my friends. That first year I walked with the Rubemeyers, some, but I think they got tired of me walking with them because that was the year people made fun of me (not sure why, other than the bullies could sense I was weak). I also walked with Wesley Henderson and Elizabeth Brolinson. Sometime that year, I met a new girl, named Trevor, and we walked home together for a while. Problem was, Trevor was bigger than me (she was a prematurely developed larger African American), and even though we were "friends" she would beat me up on the way home. Why oh why did I still walk home with her? Call me crazy-Third grade was my year to be certifiably STUPID! Benton King started picking on me too. One day, after school, He beat me up while we were still on school property, and then pushed me down the rock wall that divided the school from the playground. It was a steep incline, and I had the air knocked out of me. Someone took pity on me (can't remember who) and walked me back into the school to see the nurse.
Around that same time, my sleep walking worsened. I'm sure my subconscious was working overtime due to all the emotional turmoil I was going through. I just wanted to fit in! I was bright, creative, and sociable. Not sure why they targeted me. But I'm sure I was an easy target that year. I was probably considered easy to pick on because my Mom was involved in everything I was in (Girl Scouts and Sunday School), and she didn't let me sleep over with others because of my sleepwalking. When the other kids could walk to school on their own, my mother was walking me part-way. I can't say I blame her; she just cared more than some of the others. I was blessed to have a Mom who wanted to be involved in my life. But, word got out that I was a namby-pamby and that might have made me a target for the bullies. Who knows?
Also that year, I got a bad rash while at school. I itched EVERYwhere. And I do mean EVERYwhere. Mom was called, but she didn't have a way to come get me. While I was waiting to leave school, the itching worsened. My rear-end even itched! I told my friend that, and she went to get the teacher to tell her I was worse. I was too embarrassed to tell the teacher where I really itched, so I told her my head itched. So there she was digging through my hair. I'm sure she was concerned that I might have lice, which would have affected the whole class. Eventually, Mom's friend, Nancy Goodhart arrived with a different top to wear, in case the sweater I had on was what I was allergic to. Then Mom got there (she had to walk) and we walked straight to the doctor's office. They brought me in the back way in case I was contagious. The doctor didn't know what the rash was. I'm guessing now it was probably hives from nerves, but if I recall, the rash wasn't big blotchy spots like the hives I get sometimes, but more of a small dotted rash. Do you remember, Mom? Anyway, the treatment was oatmeal baths and avoid wool. I do have allergic reactions now to things, so maybe that was the beginning of it all. But knowing that year of school, it was emotionally based.
Of all my years in school, third grade was the worst. But the good stuff is just around the corner (and yes, there is a good ending!).
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
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There was snow on the ground when I walked to get you and that sweater was wool and I'm pretty sure the first time you ever wore any. Once a person starts itching it just automatically seems to jump from one area of the body to another. I could even have a patient come in complaining of itching from a rash and the power of suggestion would make me itch too. First here and then there. Thank goodness, that power of suggestion didn't work when related to pain or I could not have functioned, Other than having a normal empathy for patients, their pain didn't jump on me like their itching did.
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