I'm still angry

There are a lot of great posts out there about teachers who made a difference. There are great stories from moms and dads about teachers, staff and administrators who are making a difference in the lives of non neurotypicals.

That's awesome, I love hearing those stories. They make my heart joyful and I'm glad to see those changes happening.

But here's the deal: I'm still angry. I graduated highschool in 2008, I graduate college this spring, but there are still things I'm angry about.

I'm still STILL angry at these things that happened to me 15 years ago.

I'm  angry that I had to stay in for recess and re color my rainbow because I can't draw inside the lines, four times.And when my teacher let me outside, it was less than 2 minutes before the bell rang to come back in.

I'm still angry that it took me 7 years to recover from the trauma of being in that kindergarten classroom.

I'm mad that my first teacher ever told my parents that the fear of God needed to be enstilled in me.

I'm  angry that I didn't ask where the bathroom was because my teachers made me feel stupid. I held it the entire day.

I'm still mad that my teacher watched as the other kids threw rocks at me. Both my teacher and the aide did nothing.

I'm still mad that when The Matriarch came to class to help my teacher would act one way and when she was gone she'd act another.

I'm still angry that I was the only kid in the class who didn't get an award for being helpful, the teacher's favorite student got two.

I'm angry that you let the bullies sit together, right next to me, in the back of the class. 

I'm still angry that bullying was such a problem that I would walk to my SeaStars class and walk her to the car so no one picked on her.

I'm still mad that I spent more time in the hall than in the classroom.

I'm still mad that my third grade teacher embarrassed me in front of the whole class because I got the lowest grade on the spelling test. She told me I should have studied. I spent hours studying.

I'm mad that the administrators said those accommodations would be difficult because the teacher would have to come in early to prepare a separate test for me.

I'm mad that the admin told me I didn't need accommodations because I got good grades.

I'm angry that the smell of elementary classrooms gives me anxiety. Before I go to Bunky's classroom, I have to take three deep breaths and remind myself that I am an adult now. 

I'm still mad that I spent more time doing homework than I did sleeping.

I'm mad that my parents spent more time helping me with homework than they did sleeping. 

I'm still mad that I couldn't sleep because I knew school would be awful.

I'm angry that I had a constant stomache ache from the anxiety.

I'm still mad that I let all of my teachers convince me that The Matriarch wouldnt believe me, that these things were really happening. I spent many years thinking that these things were in my head.


I'm angry that when I talk with my friends about school, they all have fond memories of it. I have memories filled with anxiety, fear and hatred. 




Today, when my friends tell me that they are thinking about becoming teachers, I sometimes look at them like they eat babies. When my friends talk about their school expirences as being mostly positive, I have little to contribute. When they talk about the joy of learning in the classroom all I can think about is how I don't have a single joyful memory of learning in the classroom from elementary school. When they talk about how they loved school and learning, I think how I would have been happier if I had been left alone.


When friends talk about how teachers are underpaid and often work in harsh conditions, I agree, but here's the deal: for every awesome teacher out there making a difference in the life of a child there are two teachers and one administrator who are making life difficult.  


I am very sorry that these things happened to me. I hope at some point, they stop happening at all. This life has made me who I am, for better or for worse.