 Sophomore year (10th grade)
This was our religion teacher's first year at my school. Apparantly, no one told him about me. On the first day of class he was recording our book numbers, and when he got to me and I didn't say anything, he kept getting madder and madder as he asked me what my number was. I wasn't too concerned because I knew that eventually someone would help me out. I was more worried about him, and how he would feel when he found out. Someone said, "She doesn't talk." and he seemed really embarrassed. He wouldn't even look at me. The next day another teacher told me that he was afraid he upset me. I could tell when I first saw him that he was shy, and I could tell he was trying not to let on about it. So I knew how he must have felt, thinking that he embarrassed me. It must have really affected him, because the only thing he ever said to me after that was in my senior year, something about the weather. I think he thought I hated him, but actually I thought he was pretty cool for putting up with my class and even staying for the next few years. As far as I know he's still there. My music/humanities teacher, Mr. B, started out late at my school because the teacher from the first half of the year got fired and had to be replaced. The class he taught for us was only a quarter year class, so I met him for the 3rd quarter of the year when I had the class. He had absolutely no idea about me. At the end of one class, we were waiting for the bell to ring and he came over to me, just to make conversation, and he asked me what kind of music I liked. I didn't answer, and he looked really confused. Someone told him I didn't talk, and he looked more confused, but he was trying to be nice about it. He sort of laughed and said, "Ok" as though he was wondering why he hadn't been told about it or he didn't think we were serious. My mom wrote him a note the next day. I can't imagine the school not telling new teachers about an SM kid. It just seems like a big thing, I don't know how they could just 'forget' or whatever. The main reason I remember what Beatles albums I had back at this time is because Mr. B told us to bring in our favorite song for class the next day. I only had the Anthology series to choose from, and it was between 'The Fool on the Hill' and 'I'm Only Sleeping'. I chose the second one, mostly because of the second stanza. When I wake up early in the morning Lift my head, I'm still yawning When I'm in the middle of a dream Stay in bed, float up stream (Float up stream) Please, don't wake me, no, don't shake me Leave me where I am, I'm only sleeping Everybody seems to think I'm lazy I don't mind, I think they're crazy Running everywhere at such a speed Till they find there's no need (There's no need) Please, don't spoil my day, I'm miles away And after all I'm only sleeping Keeping an eye on the world going by my window Taking my time Lying here and staring at the ceiling Waiting for a sleepy feeling Again, my SM came through just in time. I had been totally confident about my song until it was in the CD player. Once it started playing, I turned red and literally felt like I was going to faint. Everyone was looking at me anyway, because my song was so different than the others we listened to. Everyone else had a new song, mine was from the 60s. As soon as the song stopped, I returned to 'normal'. I had to write a paper for this class about my favorite band and why it was my favorite. Obviously I chose the Beatles, and I indicated in the paper that I wouldn't have been here anymore if not for them. Shortly afterwards the school play started up again. Mr. B was in charge of it this year, and he told me at practice one day that he really liked my paper. Another time, when I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, he asked me if I ever thought about learning how to play an instrument. I had wanted to learn to play the guitar for a little while, especially since I found out he gave lessons, but dismissed the idea figuring he would never want to teach me. So I nodded yes, and he suggested I take lessons from him. I told my mom, and she talked to him and we set up a date for my first lesson. I got an acoustic guitar, and had my first lesson May 19, 2003, the day before my 16th birthday. I took lessons over the summer and he told me I was his best student. I actually kind of believed him since he apparently told other people this too. I was never able to let other people know what I liked or what I was thinking, so I tried to use non-verbal signs. We did have to wear a uniform, but on casual dress days I always wore Beatles or Monty Python shirts. This always got me weird looks, because I didn't dress like a teenage girl should. I preferred my Wrangler jeans and t-shirts, mostly because by dressing like other people I would be saying I was as good as them, which I didn't think I was. I have changed my clothes a little, but my t-shirts will always stay. I have the largest collection of Beatles shirts that I know about. Anyway, the looks, pointing, and snickers that my shirts were bringing me made me very self-conscious (more than usual). I stopped wearing them, preferring the safer, less obvious plain color or SPCA t-shirts. At this point, just walking down the hall wasn't easy, I avoided looking at anyone and just got to my locker or to class as quickly as possible. But every teenager has a rebellious period. Mine didn't involve drugs, piercings, or alcohol, rather it was me rebelling against schoolmates and similar people. I got so sick of being around these people, and I was tired of giving in all the time. I stopped caring what everyone else thought. I already knew they didn't like me, so whether I wore what I wanted or not wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't make them like me any less, at least, but I didn't care anyway. Plus, I was always seeing someone else with an AC/DC or Dave Matthews Band shirt, so why were they allowed to wear their favorite band's shirt while I wasn't? I knew I didn't like those bands, so if they didn't like my band it didn't matter. I had a few John Lennon albums, and I liked his attitude. It seemed like if he wanted something, he would do whatever it took to get it, and he didn't care what other people thought. I adopted a sort of "John Lennon attitude", or so I call it now. It involved me saying "F*ck you" (in my head) to everyone who was rude or mean to me. I realized that I was a person too and I had just as much right to be there as anyone else. I would force my eyes away from the floor when I was walking somewhere. I forced myself to look directly at people talking to me. When I was unsure of something, in my head I would say "F you, I have just as much right to be here as you." I would think this every time something was making me anxious or nervous. Therapy wasn't doing anything for me, I had to do something on my own. I discovered that you have to be a good actor to lower your anxiety. At least, that's how it was for me. Once I started pretending that I wasn't anxious about everything, I began to feel more confident. If something embarrassing happened, I pretended it didn't bother me. Before, I would have tried to hide my face or something. Now, if something happened, I held my head up and smiled so people would see that it didn't bother me. After a while I stopped turning red in situations where I previously would have. After I started pretending things didn't bother me, they really did stop bothering me. I pretended to have confidence when walking through the halls, by conciously thinking about it. I was always thinking about holding my head up, making eye contact, etc. I found that if you don't look nervous or scared, people won't think you are, and eventually you won't think you are. Previous Page | Next Page
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