My teacher was into public humiliation. And apparently, I was a troublemaker.
When she scolded me, I'd cry in class. I can think of no other school year where I cried more than the 3rd grade.
When I cried, my classmates made fun of me, and the teacher would scold me for being a baby.
We had desks where the tops lifted. I would put my head in the desk and shut the lid so I could cry and no one would see.
Her preferred method of public humiliation occurred when we had the wrong answers on an assignment, or she caught me talking in class.
When caught, she would write our names on the board, and we had to see her at her desk at the front of the classroom in front of everyone.
One time I brought up my assignment, and it was stained.
After she helped me, she asked, "What is this?"
I giggled. "My boogers."
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
Non-FictionBefore reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does no...
