lifelong side effects

Way back when I was in elementary school, we had this counselor. I'm a little fuzzy on the details but I think her main job was to give all of us a moral compass. Which is something kids need so, good for her.

Unfortunately, when I was in first grade, she came to our class to teach us a lesson on not judging a book by its cover. She read us the book Stellaluna. You probably remember it. It was about bats. And she read it to our class and asked, what do we learn from this story? Being the angelic student I was, I immediately rose my hand and said, "To be friends with everyone, no matter what they look like." The class went on and the counselor left. Later, I got called into her counseling dungeoun in the middle of the library...

I OF COURSE started hyperventillating. I felt like I was being sent to the principal's office. I got there and she told me that she felt like I was mocking her when I raised my hand about being friends with everyone no matter what they look like.

um... I'm a first-grader. I don't even know if I know what mocking means.

I tell her sorry (for what, exactly?) and go back to my classroom. And I vividly remember standing outside Ms. Hartwig's room for what seemed like years trying to stop crying.

Now, I wish I could go back in time and watch Little Mara raise her hand and vocalize her moral compass lesson. Did she say it sassy? Was she being a Little B? AND I STILL DO THAT TODAY. After conversations with people in authority, I sometimes agonize over the details and hope I didn't do something inadvertantly sassy.

Sometimes I wonder where my history of emotional breakdowns comes from. Was it when my violin teacher yelled at me because I moved those little pegs? Was it when I was dating a boy in college while I was in high school, a boy I hardly ever thought about until he dumped me? Was it at the first movie I ever cried at, Armageddon?


But I think, dear children, that it was at Stellaluna. I should go read that book again...