I Positively Detested School As a Child.

Note: This is the final exercise in the #WriteWithOSMe writing workshop.

The participants are to write about their worst memory. I was not looking forward to writing this. My mind is waiting to serve me bad memories without my asking. Do I really want to go and ask my mind, “Let us revisit this incident from hell”?  Playing victim has been a favorite pastime, and writing an article without playing victim is a skill that needs good execution. 

After writing today about the worst memory, for the next 5 days, we are to work on this article for 30 minutes. And Post the final version on August 30th. 

Medha Shri offered a pass – We didn’t need to post this if we were not comfortable. I declared that I was going to take this pass.

I then changed my mind – what the heck – let me play full out and complete this workshop with a good-faith effort.

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I hated school.

Hate doesn’t come close to describing my emotions. I positively detested school. Loathed it.

My classmates loved school, they looked forward to go to school. Their faces at school were brimming with happiness and excitement. They had fun. 

And me?

I would start to school with a foreboding feeling in my stomach. The feeling of a deer when she in the vicinity of a lion. The feeling of a prisoner walking towards the guillotine. 

For all this, I was one of the “good students” in the eyes of the teachers.

I Was One of the Ten to Receive A Beating From My Teacher

I was in 8th standard.

The class monitor made a list of 10 trouble makers. And gave it to the teacher. Who decided that the punishment was to hit the 5 students. I don’t remember what happened, but I was one of the trouble makers. And the teacher hit me along with 9 students.

I was humiliated. I was hurt. My soul was crushed. 

When I entered adulthood and looked back at this incident, anger rose from every pore of my being. I was a child, not an inmate in a high-security prison.

What happened to me was not okay.

When I read this post by Swamiji, I experienced a sense of delight which I can’t explain. Swamiji experienced something similar, telling me I was not alone.

No matter how strong or rebellious a child may appear, however well he or she may seem to handle it, in truth, physical abuse totally destroys your self-esteem. – Om Swami

I Had to Write 100 Times “I Will Not Talk in Tamil”

I was in 7th standard.

The teachers wanted to reinforce the students to talk in English. They went on a witch-hunt, catch any student who talked in Tamil at any time, and dishing a punishment: Writing 100 times that I will not talk in Tamil.

I am now a believer in affirmations – they work on the subconscious mind and help reinforce a belief.

Back then, I felt embarrassed and humiliated at having to write this 100 times. I felt traumatized.

The next day I reported a stomach ache. Which continued for six months. My parents went to every gastroenterologist in the city, none of whom could diagnose anything wrong with me. They sent me home with a clean chit of health.

When I took a psychology class in college, I came across the term Munchausen’s syndrome.

Nhs.co.uk defines Munchausen’s syndrome as

A psychological disorder where someone pretends to be ill or deliberately produces symptoms of illness in themselves. Their main intention is to assume the “sick role” so that people care for them and they are the centre of attention. 

That explained it. 

I didn’t have the emotional maturity to process the experience of humiliation, and chose consciously or subconsciously to manifest it as a physical illness. (find what is maturity in life )..

• I didn’t think about my parents, who had to take time off and take me to all those doctors, in addition to the concern they would have for my well-being.
• I didn’t think about being a good role model for my brother who was 5 years younger to me.
• I didn’t think about how losing 6 months of school will affect my education. 

That’s precisely it, I didn’t think. I viscerally chose my response. 

A Marriage Made in Hell

Punishment, verbal scoldings et al were sent in the direction of all students.

If anything, teachers chose to be more kind to me than other students.  

Other students too were affected, but they had a thicker skin and didn’t experience intense pain. I, however, was born sensitive. No, not the good sensitive, “Mother Teresa was sensitive to the sufferings of others”. This is the touch-me-not kind of sensitive, the kind where before someone would come close to scolding me, I would feel hurt.

My sensitivity coupled with the approach adopted by my teachers resulted in a marriage made in hell.  

I Had Several Acceptable Choices

I would tell my childhood version of me to learn the skills of courage, of stoic acceptance. 

I am responsible for my life. Not my parents. Not my teachers.

While the teachers’s actions on several occasions were not okay, I still had:

• The choice to interpret the situation. To frame the situation the way I wanted. To reframe the situation the way I wanted.
• The choice to quit. Quitting has consequences. It is nevertheless a choice.
• The choice to complain to authorities, to try and effect a change. This, too, has consequences (teachers will not take this lying down), but it is a choice.

Playing Victim Was Not a Choice

I exercise the one choice that is not acceptable: Playing the Victim.

Playing the victim is very addictive. You get to blame the world, and don’t need to take any responsibility. It is always someone else’s fault.  

There are several problems with playing victim. 

• You let other people control your life.
• You don’t manifest the full potential you possess.
• You don’t live a full life.
• You dwell in the past, and don’t ask “what next”.

My playing victim during childhood became a habit, a natural response to situations. I continued playing victim in my twenties and early thirties. 

Playing victim is a sure way to ensure you go through life miserable. I embarked on a journey to recondition my mind. I’ve briefly written about my reconditioning efforts – on the importance of accepting the need to change and how books helped me recondition my mind. 

Stoic Acceptance

The stoics did not complain about what happened.

They looked at how to make the best of a situation.

If I could go back and go through school with what I know now:

• I will not give undue importance to the teachers being strict. They are enforcing the societal educational norms
• I will make the best out of school. I will develop a thirst for knowledge. This thirst will sideline negative experiences 
• I will display gratitude on steroids. There are several children who don’t get the privilege of education. I will focus on the positives and multiply it by 100.
• I will look at teachers with empathy and compassion. They are human beings with problems of their own. 

If I could go back to school, I would take 100% responsibility for my life.

And it is never too late to start. 

Image Credit: Lucas Metz from Unsplash