5th Grade

Sorry I haven't posted on here in a while everyone, I want to go in chronological order and 5th grade was my worst year. I think I'm finally ready. I blocked a lot of it out of my mind to protect myself, but it's time to dredge it back up... So after the summer of 4th grade I went back to the Cannon School. I told myself it was going to be better this year.... If I had known how wrong that statement was I would have dropped out then and there. This year Dean and George were not only still there, this time I shared a class with both of them. However, for the first time I made friends. I remember my friends Robert and Josh were new to the school. Robert was short, black, and pretty cool by anyone's standards. Josh, on the other hand, was a dork to the max, taped glasses and all. Nicole (real name, we're still friends) had been at the school the year before but had not been in my class. I'll mention her more later. I was also friends with a red haired boy named Joey. The beginning of the year went well as I remained relatively unnoticed. There were snide remarks every once in a while but nothing I couldn't deal with. I became comfortable enough to resume my status as 'the smart kid.' Big mistake. Everything turned around a month into the year. I remember that very day. All day I was so glad to be back to my old self, answering all of the teacher's questions, getting high scores on everything, I didn't notice Dean and George with their friends in the back. At recess that day it all began. I say it began in 4th grade but truly the entire journey started right then and there. George's friend asked me to help him get his stuff together before recess, and I was a nice guy and so I did. How was I supposed to know it was a set up? By the time I got to recess the trap was set. George's friend Ryan asked me to come play with him on the lower field, which coincidentally was out of the view of the teachers. I never saw it coming. I followed him down and as soon as I rounded the corner of the hill Dean grabbed my arms. I was fat, Dean was a jock. I stood no chance. George walked up, spit in my face and asked me if I thought I was better than them, smarter. I said not at all. He hit me in the gut, hard, and told me not to lie to him. I was confused and said I wasn't. He kicked me as hard as he could in the shin. In a lot of pain and wanting it to stop I told him what I thought he wanted to hear. I said fine that I did think I was smarter. Before I could finish my thought his fist hit me in the face, knocking me to the ground. They all spit on me laughing. Ryan kicked me in the back of the head, Dean stepped down on my knees. Then they all ran as the bell rang. I curled up in a ball wondering what I could have possibly done to deserve what had just happened to me. When the teacher found me I told her i fell down the hill and hit a rock. She sent me to the nurse. I have to say, through my entire ordeal at Cannon the nurse was the only adult who seemed to care. When I got to her she said, with disbelief, "So you fell, huh?" I kept to my story. She shook her head, knowing the truth but not wanting to make things any worse. I went back to class. I went home and told my mom the same story. I was very clumsy as a kid so she believed it without much convincing. A few days later I came in to find new assigned seats, and I was seated next to Megan, a girl who I had a big crush on. In band, I told Robert that I had a crush on Megan, and he proceeded to tell Dean. Dean spread it around the whole school that I liked her. To my huge embarrassment and disappointment, Megan was so embarrassed to be liked by the weird kid she had her seat moved. For the rest of the year, at least twice a week I had my head banged against a locker, got punched in the gut, got thrown into the jungle gym, and so on. I was miserable. I was called Mr. Fluff, fatty, Alard, gaywad, etc. My self esteem was at a record low. I had a teacher who hated me, Mrs. Wilson, and made my life hell. I started hurting myself around this time just to get out of class and away from being universally hated. I remember after the Megan incident I came home and bawled my eyes out to my Mom wondering why anybody would do that to me. I remember I was picked last for George's team in kickball, and we lost. He blamed me and so as punishment the next day I was taken down to the lower field, circled by the team, and kicked into submission. It went on and on. We went on a field trip to see a play, I was on the first floor and from the balcony rocks and pencils and all other sorts of objects were thrown at me. But it was different. For the first time, George got in trouble. George NEVER got in trouble. I was so excited. But all that happened was he got a 'stern talking to' and was let go. He was mad, too. I had to be punished for letting them get caught. So once again they beat me to a pulp. Robert wanted to be friends but didn't want to lose his other ones, so he started drifting away from me. Joey was the same way. Josh and I were the most unpopular kids in the grade. Josh managed to avoid any physical conflict, mainly because I drew anything of the sort directed at him to me (he was a scrawny dork who wouldn't have been able to stand up to Ryan, Dean, and George for more than a second) but he was still ridiculed non-stop. There was a new kid at the school who became popular after he beat me up. Let me let that sink in: BEATING ME UP was a speed street to popularity. I came home always in physical and emotional pain. My mom saw me changing from a happy child to someone who almost never smiled, who almost wasn't a child anymore because of his experiences. But I never let her see anything physical. My reasoning for that I've never fully figured out. Part of it was that I was afraid. I was afraid of my mom going to the school and my being punished as a consequence. I was afraid that if she found out the extent of the things I was going through, she would pull me out of the school, and the one thing that scared me more than my tormentors was change. I figured it was bad but for all I knew it was much worse where I would go next. But in truth, I was also trying to protect her. My little sister, Michelle, was born that year. She is the light of my life. However, no matter how much I loved her, at home I had always been the center of attention. Now the baby came in. Now, not only was I being put down and isolated at school, I saw myself as sidelined at home. My mother went through postpartum depression and was not in a position to support me. My stepdad loved me and Michelle and my mother very much, but in truth didn't know how to truly be supportive as a father, though through no fault of his own and I don't blame him for it. In short, however, I felt absolutely alone. More than I had ever felt in my life. I hated myself. I know how this is going to sound, but it's the truth. Around this time is the first time I contemplated suicide. I know, at that age how could I possibly think like that, but I did. I would go into the bathroom and be using it and in my mind I would picture just hanging. How it would be so much better because obviously if they felt the need to treat me this way I must make them angry and they'd be happy I was finally gone. It would take pressure off of my mom and Michael. I just wanted out. I can't stress it enough, there's always that feeling of just wanting everything around you to just stop and it keeps going no matter what and you just can't take it anymore and then... tragedy. I understand how it feels. But I couldn't do it. I told myself it would get better. I had good grades. Then, at the end of the year, even that was taken from me. One of the things that got me through was looking forward to having high honors at the end of the year. My teacher who hated me gave me a C. I had never gotten below an 85 in her class, on a ten point scale, and she gave me a C. It was enough to get me off of honors. I took it to my mom who went to the school and got it changed. I got my honors, in private. But that wasn't the point. I hadn't gotten honors with my classmates, so I was no longer even the smart kid. I was just fat, weird, and hated. But no one cared. But once again, I had made it through. Another, terrible year, was over. I would never be the same again.