Vivid Imagination

Magic eye

    Magical thoughts are the foundation of creativity. The very thought of a plain life just did not define who I was.  I was a kid, but not like most, as if I had been there and done it so many times. My outlook on activities enjoyed by my peers was not even up for grabs. I was experienced, seasoned, and enjoyed the mature conversations that my parents' friends would like to share whenever they would come over to see us. I always felt like I had been somewhere, had a past full of relationships, careers, experience with life's obstacle course. So naturally, I would listen to adults complain and talk about their problems and somewhere deep inside me I always had an answer to their problems. The little psychologist in me made heads turn, followed by a whispering conversation with my parents probably asking them how I knew all that or what was going on with me. I could tell upon the look on my parents faces that they had no idea what to say or how to answer.  I would always firmly clear my throat and excuse myself for interjecting by saying that I have really good parents that taught me to listen to people and what's going on around me and that's where you will find your true education. Of course my parents shook their head and agreed very quickly. We never talked about it as this went on for years and we always used the same answer like we had scripted and rehearsed it.

     My daydreaming started mixing with characters I saw on tv. To me everyone in my present life including myself was too boring. In my head I gave everyone an extra flare. My first grade teacher was a plain single woman who couldn't get a date if her life depended on it. She dressed flat and was meaner than snot probably because being nice never got her anywhere. This gave her a sense of authority which then made her complete. To me she was just scary, unhappy and unsettled. I couldn't bear to see her like this everyday for the next 154 days I had left in her military style, unfavorably decorated classroom which really reflected her personal problems which then rubbed off on the students. I felt victimized, abused, I had to change this woman.  The reality of this is I knew that me trying to help this woman would cause more problems than it was worth since I was only 7 years old, so I did what I knew best and that was imagine and created her a new outlook, new attitude and a new life. From this day forward  Miss  Wickerstein was Ms. Scarlett, who resembled Jessica Rabbit. She loved teaching merely because she liked to be in front of people. She was dramatic yet soft. Her delicate moves softened the sharpest edges and her tender voice hypnotized everyone in the room. She was so descriptive in her teachings that she had no use for a chalkboard.  Her power suit complimented her figure as it teamed up with her lipstick color coming in at vixon red. She was confident and assured us that self esteem isn't about what you look like, it is how you feel inside. I didn't give much thought to that coming from a lady who had perfect skin and had no need for a bra.. She taught us in a different way, she told us real life stories about things she had gone through, people she had met and places she had been.  Nobody wanted to go home at the end of the day, or even graduate to the 2nd grade at that.

     That whole year, this is what I would daydream for Miss Wickerstein. She would be rambling  on about addition and subtraction with chalk on her behind and her heavy thick glasses that slid down her nose.  As often as she tried to keep them up she had to lick her chapped , peeling lips which I was convinced was why she was so mean.  The last day of school that year I felt a little uneasy. I hated goodbyes because it always reminded me of being abandoned and given up on. I have always been a sentimental person and have to leave my mark on things so I decided  to go back into the classroom to say goodbye after everyone else left.  I think this was just an insecurity of myself, I have to know that I will be remembered and remembered well.  I walked back in , she looked different. She was slouched over with her head rested on her hand. I quietly asked if she was alright and she looked up at me and quickly got back in military style and assured me of her stability. I explained that I appreciated her teachings and that she taught me a lot. She looked surprised and uncomfortable. She asked me what was the greatest thing I took from her class, I replied that ' self esteem isn't about what you look like, it's how you feel inside.'
     That fall  after the first day of 2nd grade, I walked down the hallway where Miss. Wickerstein's room was and to my surprise she looked better, she did not see me as I quickly peered into her room. I couldn't believe it, she had a shiny bright banner above the chalkboard which read.. "self esteem isn't about what you look like, it's how you feel inside." I guess we all can learn from our Ms, Scarlett inside.