I have mentioned that I did very well in school grade wise. High GPA and little need to study. This was not always the case. There was a period of about three and a half years where I did very poorly in almost every study. Nothing happened at home to cause this and my parents were absolutely mystified as to why my grades became constantly low in almost every study across the board. The reason was actually very simple: I was being bullied by my teacher. It was my second grade teacher that was the culprit. It did not start immediately and was never direct but had a massive effect.

I started off the year with enthusiasm. I have always had a people pleasing streak. Even at home all my parents had to do was give me a disappointed look and I would self correct. In all grades except the years affected, I ended up in a teachers’ pet position. For whatever reason however this teacher took particular issues with me. I will call her Mrs D for simplicity.

Problems started off small but almost immediately. Right off the bat she forbade my school aide from writing for me. I was told that I had to write everything myself. It did not matter my disability, stamina, or comfort. Every worksheet had to be completed by my hand. Things began to build on itself. Even on my best days, I am a slow writer. Everything from writing to drawing required breaks for physical rest. That was not good enough for Mrs D. I was simply being lazy and not struggling to her. I was not given help. When I consequently failed to finish class work on time, I began to lose privileges. The first privilege I lost was the 15 minute morning recess. I would be held inside the classroom instead. The amount of papers continued to pile up. I lost the majority of lunch next and she got tired of watching me struggle in the classroom. I was instead banished to the hall between all the classrooms that was used for mostly storage since all the classrooms were outwards facing. I would be tasked to finishing worksheets in mostly quiet alone in the hall. Only my school aide would be with me. Later I further lost fun activities like art, movies, and holiday class parties. It eventually got to the case where it felt like I spent more time in the hall for punishment than inside the actual class. On the rare occasion that I did finish everything assigned to me, I was instead given rubbish assignments like connect the dots papers. Never anything fun or that the rest of the class had to do. I vividly remember sitting in the hall listening to the sounds of class Christmas parties from every class around me. I knew that my class got treats and the ability to watch The Polar Express. Not me. I was isolated.

To be completely honest about it all,

this

broke

me.

At first I was just frustrated and confused. Later I tried to actually rebel. I would refuse to fill out classwork when feeling extra stubborn. Sometimes I would even try to talk back to the teacher. Little second grade me could not properly identify or vocalize what was wrong though. For the life of me I don’t know why my aide at the time did not stick up for me. I probably will never know. Eventually I gave up and accepted the treatment. The way I was talked to and treated made me believe that the problem was with me. That maybe I was actually dumb or naughty or both. I was ashamed and because I was ashamed I did not tell my parents about the treatment. Neither of them knew for years after and that teacher died by then.

I gave up on trying to learn until 5th grade. I would only put in minimum effort or none at all. I spent the class period daydreaming and would read during every other available moment. Reading was the only subject I never gave up on. It was an escape and something I knew I was good at for a fact. I was reading books like Eragon by the 5th grade. Negative reprimands from my parents and new teachers about my level of effort only served to prompt me to dig my heels in more. I felt dumb and that there was no way for me to succeed. I was too far behind in my knowledge anyway by that point right? I didn’t even know my multiplication.

My 5th grade handled me right. I was not chided. Instead every little bit of effort was praised and rewarded. Learning was made a positive challenge. One I could succeed at. I was behind still for a time at subjects like math and writing but grades recovered from barely Cs to Bs and even As. I owe that teacher so much to this day. My confidence was restored.