Mean? Me?

A Short Little Memoir from My Life

When I was younger, I was a real quiet child. That may be a surprise to the people who know me- or have even only met me!- but I was. This is a far cry from the loud, outspoken, flamboyant person I am now, but time changes everything. To be fair, it's been a long time since I was that way. In retrospect, I was always the person I am now, I just never showed it. Especially at school and to teachers. I was the good student, and I couldn't afford to lose that reputation. It has been a long, and uneventful, yet slightly amusing journey to show my true self, but I made it. The trick was to gradually let the "inner me" out.

In the second grade, I was especially prone to shying away from the other kids. I was afraid of getting bullied. I wasn't bullied myself, but I saw my classmates getting picked on mercilessly and decided to lay low. I only spoke when spoken to at school, while at home I was purely Allison, making me think that bullies are always the problem. Even now I have to remind myself, "What's wrong with being you?" but I am way better now than I was. I was pretty dedicated to good grades- I suppose I still am- and I was also stubborn for a kid. I did things to the best of my ability and disliked greatly being interrupted while in the middle of something. In hindsight, I have all the same qualities, I just exemplified them differently then.

We had two second grade homerooms at my old school, and two third grade teachers. Our homeroom teacher would teach us six of the seven classes and we would switch teachers for the seventh. I was in Mrs. Diener's homeroom, and for religion I journeyed across the hall for a while to Mrs. Siwa. I suppose the reason for these little travels were both to "prepare" us for middle school, and to give the teachers time away from her little lovable devils.

Mrs. Siwa taught in the front of the classroom with her desk in the back to check papers while we did our work. Six desks were in each row with an aisle dividing them into two sets of three. Jacob sat in the front row, second aisle, first desk, with me behind him to the right. Religion class was more than boring, and for whatever reason, my good girl charisma didn't affect Mrs. Siwa. I struggled in the class because it was difficult for me and I resented learning from someone who didn't like me. If I didn't pay attention in that class, I didn't do well. (Relatively, of course). In short, I typically was in a bad mood and irritated when it came to that class. If I was taking notes, which I knew I needed to take, I didn't like to be distracted. It was unfortunate Jacob became a distraction to me.

One class period, Jacob turns around in his seat, while the teacher was still teaching and I was still taking notes. He asked, very innocently, "Who's Matthew?" I'm not entirely sure how the teacher didn't notice that. I could've sworn his voice would have been heard by the teacher. I knew he didn't know, and I knew he wanted to know. He was making an effort, which I realize now means a lot, but I didn't want to fall behind. This was not the time for that. So, thinking I was being mature, I ignored him. I apparently had fooled him into thinking I was the perfect good girl as well, because he must have thought I just didn't hear him. He asked again, "Who's Matthew?" He was a little louder this time, and Mrs. Siwa still didn't hear.

I didn't want to tell him, I always got caught when I talked in class, even if my classmates didn't. I used to be bitter about that, and I didn't want to be caught regardless, so I hissed, "I don't know."

"Yes you do. You always know." Again I was the person I showed myself to be. Thinking about it, I didn't even notice how he complimented me. Then again, I was irritated at him. Didn't everyone know who Matthew was?

"Ask the teacher later," I glared. Teaching was her job, not mine. I don't remember what he said after that, but whatever it was set me off. "Stop talking to me, you idiot." That felt oddly refreshing to say. I said exactly wanted to say, and I felt triumphant. Take that, Jacob! Don't judge me yet. The only other people I called idiots were my siblings and that was normal. What surprised me was Jacob's reaction.

"What's an idiot?" His question was innocent enough.

I was shocked, dumbfounded, confused. What is this? He doesn't know? I thought everyone knew! How does he not know? So, I sucked in a breath and told him. "A idiot is person who's a jerk, and a moron, and a loser all rolled into one." My conscience was screaming, "Bad idea!" but I never really did bad things, so that was a knew feeling. I also remember having the image of the Eiffel Tower as I elaborated.

I know I shouldn't have told him. I knew I shouldn't have told him. He was the absolute worst person to be mean to. If I were to ever be mean to anyone, it should not have been him. There were a bunch of jerks that I could line up and mock. Kids who I still don't like because they're absolutely intolerable. Jacob, however, was a good kid. He was also the problem child. He was the kid who proudly announced he licked the toilet seat, and who tried to kiss the teacher. He was the one who had an accident in class and barfed in the hallway. He was the target for all the bullies, and worst of all, he didn't even know it. He was mocked, but naïve enough to not get it. It was rare for anyone to spell it out for him.

All that regret and sympathy flew right out the window when he raised his hand a moment later and snitched. "Mrs. Siwa," whining like a five year old, "Allison just called me an idiot." Right. Out. The window. Honestly, who does that!? He told on me! No matter what my classmates did or said, I didn't tell on them, because I knew it was mild. I knew that the teasing would go away. My philosophy now is to fight back, but that's still not snitching. Think about it. If I told on every little thing the class idiots did, the teacher wouldn't take me seriously if something big ever did happen. This turned out to be the case two years later when my teachers freaked when someone as positive as me came to them in tears at lunch. They took no prisoners!

I was very irritated at Jacob. Very annoyed. Very angry. I was also very embarrassed. This was the teacher who didn't think I was perfect! Mrs. Siwa turned to me disapprovingly. She was in the middle of a sentence when Jacob raised his hand and interrupted her. It must have looked like I insulted him out of the blue, which was even worse. I stumbled through the apology, and looked down. It was awkward, but also aggravating I had to be nice to him after he snitched. The class went on, but I could only think how unfair it all was.

Mrs. Siwa told Mrs. Diener after class. Mrs. Diener called me over and asked me if I actually called Jacob an idiot. She couldn't believe sweet, innocent Allison could say that. If I had told her no, she would have believed me. I know it. My family emphasized honesty, though, so I told her I did. She was disappointed in me. Really disappointed. She told me to apologize, and I felt really bad the entire day. Not because I really regretted my actions. I didn't feel guilty because I hurt Jacob's feelings, or said something rude. I especially wasn't sorry that the snitch was insulted. I felt bad because I really liked Mrs. Diener, and it made me want to cry that I had disappointed her. Mrs. Diener liked me and I was crushed that I broke her trust, if even for a day.