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I had a [mostly] wonderful home life as a child. The adults in my family loved me and the kids kept me from being too spoiled. [ I think so anyway, my Lil' Bro may have another story but this is my LJ.]
Life in the world at large was different. I'm aware now that what my dad told me was true and I wasn't alone in absolutely hating school. Did you know they made a TV show about it with demons and vampires? I don't remember writing the writer's block story so it feels strange to look at. I do have an anti-yellow crayon story from what I think is that year.
The first day of school we were asked to self portraits. I was coloring in my yellow hair when a little boy came along with green crayon and marked all over the paper.
Today, I choose to think he had a crush on me and wasn't a mean little SOB. ;0)
Anyway, the teacher took up the papers and just smiled at me. She wouldn't let me tell her what the other kid did. I think that the not being heard part is why the memory is still with me.
At the end of the year we were asked to do the same thing. Either I guarded my desk better or the boy got a new GF. When we handed in the pictures the teacher made us all sit in a circle and showed the portraits from the start and end of the year.
She held mine up side by side and told everyone how well I'd learned my colors. The kids that sat next to me [including green crayon boy snickered.]
I think by that time I'd given up on the teacher ever caring what I had to say. I walked over and pinched the boy.
Most of my early report cards have notes that say I was very bright but had poor impulse control because of my C.P.
Ha! If had poor impulse control I would've kicked the kid with my AFOs!
My parents used to look at these notes and wonder how come getting on a school bus turned me into a different girl.
I can recall being angry and frustrated through all of my school years for one reason or another. I lashed out very rarely, mostly I just kept trying to get by and kept to myself. By nature I'm outgoing so it was a hard way to cope. The so called experts claimed that people with C.P. are easily frustrated and have poor impulse control. I can't speak for everyone. I know that I spent so much energy just keeping up with the world and warding off bullies that I was too tired to do any of my homework which caused more trouble.
I'm not angry at the teachers or the bullies anymore. That was a lifetime ago. I don't know if the experts still say people with C.P. have poor impulse control. They might have a point, but I'd be very slow to blame it on brain chemistry, even though that's the trend for everything. Consider the facts that I could walk slowly but unaided and I could speak clearly without an effort. The world is an even more exhausting place for people with this kind of disability.
Throw into the mix that most people like to live up to expectations of others. I'm not talking about those rare "experts" I'm talking about all those people who've seen a dozen versions of "A Christmas Carol" every holiday of their lives. There's an expectation from the outside world that kids with disabilities are brave, kind and saintly. It sort of puts pressure on a child to smile and not complain. I learned to say I was "just fine" to the church ladies a lot sooner than I think average kids learned that social lie.
Also, everyone on the planet except the guy on my icon learns to tell the "just fine" lie sooner or later. I mean, nobody really wants to be House. It human nature to want people to like your company.
It never seemed fair other kids could be excused for being a brat in public if they were tired or sick. But it was obvious to me the alternative was to be miserable to be around 9 times out of 10. For years I had a teddy bear that I punched the stuffing out of. Gee, add the fact that I died three times into all this, and I should be a heck of a lot better at writing season six Buffy than I am!
You can use the word 'disability', 'handicap' or whatever the newest P.C. word is. Just so long as I'm a person with a _____, or a person who is______. I'm not that touchy about it, you can say I'm spastic or have brain damage it's true. But C.P. is a form of brain damage, I have it. It's not like my ethnic or religious persuasion. If you catch me saying I'm disabled, it's either to save some typing or because I'm feeling sorry for myself [maybe both.] It's not just a matter of being P.C. It's a about self-repect and sometimes, when I use it in reference to myself, it's a reminder to be a person first.
In conclusion, I like being old I may hurt even more than I did before. The joys of menopause are around the corner, but I'm stilll alive, and school is well behind me.
Life in the world at large was different. I'm aware now that what my dad told me was true and I wasn't alone in absolutely hating school. Did you know they made a TV show about it with demons and vampires? I don't remember writing the writer's block story so it feels strange to look at. I do have an anti-yellow crayon story from what I think is that year.
The first day of school we were asked to self portraits. I was coloring in my yellow hair when a little boy came along with green crayon and marked all over the paper.
Today, I choose to think he had a crush on me and wasn't a mean little SOB. ;0)
Anyway, the teacher took up the papers and just smiled at me. She wouldn't let me tell her what the other kid did. I think that the not being heard part is why the memory is still with me.
At the end of the year we were asked to do the same thing. Either I guarded my desk better or the boy got a new GF. When we handed in the pictures the teacher made us all sit in a circle and showed the portraits from the start and end of the year.
She held mine up side by side and told everyone how well I'd learned my colors. The kids that sat next to me [including green crayon boy snickered.]
I think by that time I'd given up on the teacher ever caring what I had to say. I walked over and pinched the boy.
Most of my early report cards have notes that say I was very bright but had poor impulse control because of my C.P.
Ha! If had poor impulse control I would've kicked the kid with my AFOs!
My parents used to look at these notes and wonder how come getting on a school bus turned me into a different girl.
I can recall being angry and frustrated through all of my school years for one reason or another. I lashed out very rarely, mostly I just kept trying to get by and kept to myself. By nature I'm outgoing so it was a hard way to cope. The so called experts claimed that people with C.P. are easily frustrated and have poor impulse control. I can't speak for everyone. I know that I spent so much energy just keeping up with the world and warding off bullies that I was too tired to do any of my homework which caused more trouble.
I'm not angry at the teachers or the bullies anymore. That was a lifetime ago. I don't know if the experts still say people with C.P. have poor impulse control. They might have a point, but I'd be very slow to blame it on brain chemistry, even though that's the trend for everything. Consider the facts that I could walk slowly but unaided and I could speak clearly without an effort. The world is an even more exhausting place for people with this kind of disability.
Throw into the mix that most people like to live up to expectations of others. I'm not talking about those rare "experts" I'm talking about all those people who've seen a dozen versions of "A Christmas Carol" every holiday of their lives. There's an expectation from the outside world that kids with disabilities are brave, kind and saintly. It sort of puts pressure on a child to smile and not complain. I learned to say I was "just fine" to the church ladies a lot sooner than I think average kids learned that social lie.
Also, everyone on the planet except the guy on my icon learns to tell the "just fine" lie sooner or later. I mean, nobody really wants to be House. It human nature to want people to like your company.
It never seemed fair other kids could be excused for being a brat in public if they were tired or sick. But it was obvious to me the alternative was to be miserable to be around 9 times out of 10. For years I had a teddy bear that I punched the stuffing out of. Gee, add the fact that I died three times into all this, and I should be a heck of a lot better at writing season six Buffy than I am!
You can use the word 'disability', 'handicap' or whatever the newest P.C. word is. Just so long as I'm a person with a _____, or a person who is______. I'm not that touchy about it, you can say I'm spastic or have brain damage it's true. But C.P. is a form of brain damage, I have it. It's not like my ethnic or religious persuasion. If you catch me saying I'm disabled, it's either to save some typing or because I'm feeling sorry for myself [maybe both.] It's not just a matter of being P.C. It's a about self-repect and sometimes, when I use it in reference to myself, it's a reminder to be a person first.
In conclusion, I like being old I may hurt even more than I did before. The joys of menopause are around the corner, but I'm stilll alive, and school is well behind me.
