Читать книгу Through These Eyes - Lauren Ann Isaacson - Страница 16

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Fifth Grade

During the latter half of fifth grade, I decided to keep a diary. Entries were, at best, sparse and infrequent throughout the school year. Upon the arrival of summer, they subsided altogether. While the entries persisted, however, the content consisted merely of the days events, amassed in broken sentences and one word implications. I also made certain that major events did not pass without notice.

Jan. 19, 1973 … Gerbil's tail fell off today. He was going out on the carpet and so I grabbed onto his tail. Guess what? This much (one inch) of his tail fell off. It's in a bag.

Yes, I even saved the tail.

Jan. 20, 1973 … Made a bet with Dad about snow. Church, Rainy, wet day outside. Popcorn at night. 2 bottles of pop. Got the hiccups. Played with gerbil.

I was painfully concise.

Mar. 13, 1973 … I stayed home and am sick. I barfed in the sink and then watched T.V.

My diary also reminded me of the double standard that exists between parents and their children. Many battles ensue due to the fact that parents can do that which a child is not permitted to do; initially, this would include such privileges as touching objects in stores and staying up after 10:00 p.m. Arguments increase as the child seeks maturity. My exposure to the double standard involved not so much the things I could not do, but rather, the things which Mom had never done, yet forced me to do. Admittedly, I would never have ventured from the house had it not been for Mom's insistent prodding, for I liked it there. Through her dictation, I attended swimming lessons, piano lessons, and Girl Scouts. By this age, I liked swimming a great deal, and it was no longer a source of resentment. Piano lessons required that I practice a half-hour each day; after walking stiff-legged to the piano and playing several notes, I relaxed my limbs and, on good days, tried to conceal my musical enjoyment from Mom. Girl Scouts, however, was a continual menace. Through my affiliation with the organization, I had to wear an ill-fitting green dress to school on the day of the meeting. Each year I bore the humiliation of refusal which came with selling Girl Scout cookies. On one of our field trips to a local beauty school, I was placed under the hair drier (which was on "high") and promptly forgotten.

It was no surprise, then, that when the Girl Scouts offered roller skating lessons, Mom applauded the idea. I cringed, knowing that a protest would have been futile despite her history of roller-rink nervousness. (Her arms hurt from thrashing.) At any rate, the lessons began and I learned that I was not meant to travel on wheels. It was completely different from ice skating. Being confined to the rink created the probability of multiple pile-ups. Already feeling hopelessly out of control, I was horrified at the thought of turning by lifting one skate over the other; skating was hard enough with both skates planted on the floor. Stopping consisted of rolling around in circles until I lost momentum, or slammed into a wall. Performing figure eights and skating backward were feats which bordered suicidal nightmares.

After the lessons ceased, I was quite relieved and, for the most part, as much an amateur at roller skating as I had been at the beginning. However, I had relinquished the wall for the rubber "brakes" and no longer became traumatized when the announcement to "change directions" resounded through the skating rink. I had not failed utterly and completely.

Popularity is, indeed, a curiosity. I noted that the means toward popularity changed in various age groups and social situations. For instance, during the initial years of grade school, one could attain a certain degree of popularity through excelling academically. Since I was naturally an achiever, I received a fair amount of friendly attention through these years. With my fellow achievers I competed for the high score which would bring exaltation and admiration from one's peers and teachers, and had little difficulty holding my position as undefinably determined by the class.

As years passed, the more outgoing personalities reached the pillar of esteem and without trauma, I settled back into a station more agreeable with my character. If I was not asked to a party or special event, I felt undeniably relieved; I then would not be obliged to listen to the inevitable cutting gossip which always seemed to accompany closed parties and the like. In a sense, I could have been described as "everybody's friend and mediator," as I never chose to involve myself on any particular side of a dispute, especially when the two sides seemed equally at fault. When two friends were not on speaking terms they would both speak to me; I took care to avoid asserting my views, electing instead to mechanically nod my head in silence.

Aside from Mary and a handful of others, I believe that I enjoyed the company of boys over girls, possibly because their personality was more consistent. In most cases, a friend on Monday would still be a friend on Tuesday. Moreover, boys liked tromping through the woods and were usually not squeamish; I had little tolerance for those who panicked at the sight of an insect. (I feared only spiders, for they had a nasty habit of biting me at night while sleeping.) I enjoyed their coarser sense of humor (after all, gas is funny)! I also had a high regard for bravery in the face of bodily injury; chronic whiners and screamers won no points with me.

Although the rowdiness of certain boys initially caused a degree of alarm, I was soon able to relax and enjoy the companionship afforded by their more self-assured personalities. The boys which I encountered seemed more eager to accept people, whereas girls were prone toward competition with their own sex and, consequently, more apt to foster petty jealousies and complaints. Moreover, because of their inability to inflict any serious injury other than the emotional type, many girls gained mastery over painfully judgmental tongues and appeared to relish the mental pandemonium to which one was subjected upon the most trivial misunderstanding.

To maintain a friendship, one must have unrelenting endurance, yet should never need the companionship of another so desperately as to justify the acceptance of a flagrantly inconsistent personality. If one is unwilling to firmly entrench his feelings toward another, the resulting friendship is grossly mismatched.

I quickly grew weary of "friends" who would, for no better reason than the excitement begotten of such behavior, decide to ostracize one member of the "group" for an undetermined length of time, during which the hapless individual would endure a prickly barrier of silence, piqued by icy stares and inaudible gossip. Some of the victims would beg or cry to be forgiven for the guiltless crime that evoked the group's sudden disfavor. Generally, I was completely baffled and rather amused when the disfavor fell upon me, and, knowing that nothing would hasten my reacceptance into the group, would calmly go about my business until they decided that I once again merited good treatment.

One of the most revolting instances that I remember pertaining to the above dissertation was eating at a "friend's" house for lunch. Because my mom was working, she thought it would be more to my liking if I would spend lunch hour at the house of a friend or neighbor. A fee was established for this service, yet I was rallied around the area, eventually finding myself at the house of a schoolmate. She usually was one of my school chums, so I rather looked forward to our sharing this additional time together; how wrong my assumptions proved to be!

Soon after I began eating lunch at her house, she somehow decided to hold me in ill regard. She refused to speak to me at the table, and gained the further assistance of her older brother to make my stay twice as uncomfortable. The only conversation I was able to gather was that of her amiable mother, and I was only too glad to know that she understood the hatefulness of my situation. Although I ignored their stupidity as best I could, lunch was not a thing which I looked forward to under those conditions and I once again changed my noontime regimen so as to facilitate a better appetite. No longer having to share her mother on a daily basis, she soon restored her "friendship."

If one can ignore such treatment, the wrath is more rapidly abandoned. Affairs such as these reflect badly on their initiators; it is sad that pointless wars must be waged to win friendship, but perhaps these are an intrinsic facet of early relationships for certain individuals. Personally, if I have to alienate a friend to insure that he would be loyal to me, I would rather bury my head in the sand.

Grade school was the place wherein I experienced my first taste of romance. My initial spark was in second grade; although the boy and I were so shy that we were not on speaking terms, the flame kindled for many months, during which time we would smile at each other sheepishly and flush with embarrassment when, in gym class, we were square dance partners and momentarily held hands. Our romance was sporadic through the years, but its peak was reached in fifth grade. By that time, we actually conversed and spent time in each other's company, which greatly aided our relationship. Soon it became apparent to both of us that our interest had progressed beyond the platonic level.

Jan. 10, 1973 … Went to school. Made lunch for myself. Went skating with B. Had a lot of fun skating. Played "go fetch" with ice.

Feb. 15, 1973 … After Valentine's Day … B. gave me a really funny valentine (A drawing of a heart).

Mar. 14, 1973 … B. brought me a 5-pack (of) bubble gum from T.D. who is leaving school and going to Tenn. I'm still sick.

Mar. 30, 1973 … After supper I went outside and played a kick-ball game with S. and B. B gave me a real pretty rock (quartz). Then B. and I played a game and we talked a little until 7:30. (I like B.)

April 10, 1973 … School … I had practice for the style show. B. came and watched me!

The climax of our romantic fling was during a field trip to the local arsenal. Our class boarded a school bus, and side by side, B. and I rode to the site of the old artilleries, very much aware of the other and bashfully enamored. We were also somewhat nervous for it had been rumored that B. was going to give me a ring.

Upon our arrival at the Arsenal, we all piled out onto the neatly clipped government lawns and prepared for our tour. The afternoon progressed rapidly, and B. and I were continually surrounded by a mass of fellow classmates throughout our surveyance of guns, cannons, and assorted weapons. I saw no ring, and felt somewhat relieved, being a private person who disliked drawing attention to myself, especially when that attention included my boyfriend.

As the tour drew to a close, we were shown the final points of interest. One was a large tank which each student either climbed upon or gawked at disinterestedly, as per his or her general emotion toward army equipment. I remained on the ground, gazing at the tank as B. scrambled to the top with some other children. suddenly, B. drew THE RING out of a pocket, and, not knowing how to present it, threw it to me from his battle station. I caught the ring and flushed with embarrassment. The rest of the day became a blur. B. also seemed uncertain of the next course of action. I do not even know whether I rode next to my boyfriend on the return trip.

To be truthful, the rest of the school year was another blur following THE RING, and although we liked each other, we seldom spoke at school any more. Sheer embarrassment, I fear, finally killed our romance; happily we remained friends, however, and never entertained bitterness toward each other. Ours had been an innocent, uncomplicated infatuation, evolving in part from a mutually compatible sense of humor which caused our eyes to glisten. We never kissed, and only held hands during school functions in which it was necessary. Neither of us possessed lofty expectations for the other to fulfill, and therefore enjoyed each other's company when we shared activities together.

From this early point in life, I saw that friendships were more stable than romantic inclinations, and therefore worth much more. To this day, when B. and I meet, we still share a glimmer and a smile.