Bad Memory Come To Life
Last Saturday, I had the misfortune of running into my seventh grade social studies teacher, Mrs. Joan Jacobson. Fresh in from Sri Lanka, I wasn’t quite prepared for the ordeal of this awful woman, who did everything in her power to make me feel like I didn’t belong. Not only did she affect me badly, but my parents hated her too. My grades were terrible in her class, and for once my parents felt it had less to do with me and more the teacher. I think I got a “D” in her class. I don’t remember. I don’t care.
Why, the reader may ask, would one invite an encounter with such an individual? The answer is that I really didn’t want to, and she was the last person on my mind as I visited my parents’ neighbor’s rummage sale. Anne, the unsuspecting neighbor, introduced me to her friends as the son of the people next door, and Joan Jacobson happened to be sitting there. I recognized her immediately. She asked me what my name was, and I told her, and she actually remembered me as the foreign student. Out of respect for the neighbors, I refrained from telling her that I remembered her as a bigoted bitch, and that I had had the worst year of my life in her stupid class. I wanted to tell her that her concepts of IALAC (I Am Loved And Cared for) and IAHAD (I Am Hated And Dumb) were the most inane ideas that I had ever endured, and that she should rot in a hell designed specifically for fascist teachers for all of eternity. Fortunately, my friend Ragani stopped by and I had an opportunity to excuse myself before I let my tongue get slippery.
I guess I resent her. I’m trying to figure out how to either let go of this or contact her and simply tell her how awful a person she was. I thought she would be dead by now. Honestly, death would be too kind a fate for this ignoble excuse for a teacher.
Many teachers inflict their own special pain on young people that they come in contact with. Young children and teens are succeptible to their treachery. You are now an adult, cheat her by living past it and being free.
You do look kinda foreign…maybe exotic even?
luv ya
It’s a cliche, of course, but the best revenge is indeed living well, which you, my friend are doing. You are also unarguably loved and cared for.
Thanks John & Heidi. It’s awesome to know that 1) I don’t have to seek revenge on this misinformed woman and 2) that you guys care about me enough to encourage me not to waste my time.