Bullying...............

I am adding in here a short essay I did about an experience in 1st grade. It's bullying of a different kind.

David S. Clark

ENG-120

January 25, 2012

My Biggest Embarrassment

It was early fall, somewhere around the month of October, when the leaves have their

peak season of colors. I remember the day like no other. It was the kind of day that one

usually watches out for, as if something could-go-wrong kind of day. At that time it was the late

70’s ,and we wore uniforms to school. We dressed in dark blue pants, light blue shirt, and a

clip-on tie with the schools initials on it. Although I was eight years old then: it seems like

yesterday.

My mother, on her way to work, dropped both my brother and me off at the, “Uniformed

Private School Institution” (they will get no advertisement from me). The kids flocked into the

school yard by the hundreds. I had very few friends at that time, and this particular day’s events

made it so I had none, or at least it sure felt that way.

The bell rang, and all of us young ones up to eighth grade, lined up to head into class.

The morning went well to my recollection with the normal reading and writing exercises,

arithmetic and so on. Morning recess came, and at that school, it may as well have been like

prison yard time.

None-the-less it was a break from class. I was not all that energetic that day. I didn’t run around

outside or play ball with anyone, it was just a quiet day, or so I thought.

We headed back into the classroom and got back into more reading and spelling

exercises. Back then, I hated raising my hand in class for any reason whatsoever. I was just a

quiet kid at that time, but suddenly I had a big problem,………… I had to go to the bathroom.

I recall enjoying drinking at the water fountain; I thought it was the best thing, anything

to stall getting back to class.

Soon I have a dilemma, sitting there in my seat not knowing what to do,

or at least not knowing how to handle the situation. So I decided to just wait till lunch recess; this

was a bad move.

I tried to focus on what was being taught, but then, out of sheer will power, I raised my hand.

The teacher was just as surprised as I was to see my hand go up, but it had to be done. She said

“What is it David?” “May I go to the bathroom?” I replied. She responded with a disgusting look

and said “No, you should have gone during recess; you will have to wait till lunch time” I

already knew at that moment that the situation was not in my favor or best interest at all.

I did the typical thing of trying not to think about it for a few more minutes, but no such luck.

Once again with more boldness I raised my hand. Another strange look came from whom now

was an instrument of human torture. I spoke again and said, “May I please use the bathroom?”

then came another cold response but sounding more angry than the first time; “No, you have to

wait” she said.

I was no biology major to say what was going on inside, but this was really starting to

get painful. I could focus no longer on the schoolwork anymore; I merely focused on the pain;

prolonging the inevitable.

Then as I sat, the worst of my fears began to unfold, or release should I say?

It was over, while sitting at my desk. There was relief for my bladder! The volume was plentiful

considering all the water I had drunk before recess. As I sat there, I remember feeling as if the

world was about to come down on me for this act. It wouldn’t take long until the young

child in front of me heard the urine dripping on the floor. He turned around, looked at me, and I

was horrified. He spoke out loud, “Hey this kid’s peeing on the floor!” Everybody turned around

and laughed at me. Embarrassed and scared, I sat there.

More frustrated than ever, the teacher then shouted at me, “Go to the bathroom!” I

remember thinking to myself, ok, so now what? She pointed her finger straight at the door;

she was furious. I got up and went down the hall heading to the bathroom. On the way there I

saw the old janitor. He looked at me and said, “Had an accident, huh?” “Yes”, I replied. But only

this was no accident. This could have been prevented if a little compassion had come into play.

I went back to the classroom. By this time, the mess was all cleaned up, so I was able to

take my seat again. My last and final problem was urine soaked clothes. I sat in those

clothes enduring a fowl stench that could reach to high heaven. No phone call was made to my

parents or anything. I stayed like that for the rest of the day, and no one spoke to me at

all. Lunch recess came and all I got was a gathering of people laughing at me.

I remember those days in the “Uniformed Private School Institution”, and how hard they

were for both my brother and I. Now they are just memories. I remember all the names of the

teachers and the janitor as well. The most important lesson for me though is this; forgiveness.

I don’t harbor any bitterness at all. In the end, I believe some people just don’t know what they

are doing. I can extend grace and look back at this and laugh at myself, and how people

responded that day. Some would say I should be scared by that incident. I look at it as way

to show people one of the many ways I can practice forgiveness. I know that from her

perspective she was trying to teach discipline, I wonder how she feels about that now, I may

never know. Back then I felt embarrassed beyond my worst fears. Today I can say that I would

rather laugh at myself, and some of the things I did when I was young, this way the very intense

moments of the past don’t have any power over me.

Early Years......................

One thing that always stuck out to me was hearing my father say "that looks like a David to me". I was just born, an early memory that people say is impossible. After all I have seen in this world, nothing could be more impossible. Or even still do we actually believe in that word? Not me says the preacher man! I also remember them (doctors) sewing up my belly button, that hurt let me tell you! the first of 3 hernias in my lifetime. Thats it from that timespan. The next memory was being washed on my grandmothers kitchen table, I don't seem to recall enjoying that either. Is there something there that has effected intimacy for my future years? We'll get to that soon. My early years I refer to them as glimpses, after all, our minds are not fully developed for what I call "linear memory" until much later.  I actually like that term "linear memory" it will have its relevance when I get further in.

Kindergarten and preschool years were strange for me. As a child I was a bed wetter that just wouldn't quit! Initially that brought on a lot of unneeded surgeries' and installments of early childhood fear, that would later create this fear of surgery, ultimately my nemesis.

I recall the first concussion I ever had. I was leaning against what was like cement piping that kids used to crawl through. There were some kids on top of it, I didn't think much of it at the time. Then when I woke up and had seen everybody lined up to go inside, I realized I was hit with a rock on top of the head! Wet pants of course, that was normal for me at the time, even until 7th grade at best for bed wetting. The concussion was mild I would say, compared to the next one. I have one brother who I will mention lightly from time to time. I wont mention names or places so much, but rather facts and truths.

Facts are always different from the truth, because truth has what facts cant see. ( like that one?).

Abuse has always been a puzzling one for me, I have strange memories from time to time, that I have not been able to come clear on. Like babysitters running amuk in the house while mom and dad were out.
To some person telling me to kiss their private parts (male). I don't recall anything happening, none the less it was scary. One of the things that has led me to question sexuality on rare times. Im not gay, nor do I support such lifestyle, nor understand it for that matter. Maybe I do see how it happens to some people though. A place for a disclaimer, if you have an immature mindset, please stop reading. This is for those who want genuine help and insight. I don't have time for childish remarks.

There are real problems people face. If I am as honest as I can bluntly be, someone just might be set free from a hell that they are in. God willing.

Around 9 years old I decided I was going to be like Evil Kenevil, that old stunt guy. I tied a parachute on the back of my banana seat bicycle, went up top the hill. Went down as fast as I can, obviously not thinking of physics at the time, (air is needed for a parachute to work) and I was in front of the air. Went over the handle bars at full speed, waking up at 4 in the morning in a hospital. Face was torn up as bad as Freddy Krueger. Teeth smashed out, IV in the arm, and hungry for food! The nurse wasn't much help for that, as she said breakfast was not until 7 am. I was in second grade at the time of that accident. I have a scar on my hand and on my chin from that adventure. This event led to teeth problems in the distant future. On to the bullying!!!!!!  
    

A simple glimpse

Recently, my life went through a dramatic season of horrific events. Words could only barely put this into perspective for a reader. Hopefully there will be pictures, worth a thousand words or more, and hopefully there will be introspection, more into your own life than mine, as strange as it seems. Im writing this as if I were writing my own book. Im no english major so bear with me. However I do consider myself to be on the intelligent side, and have been able to hang with the best of them. About me, Im a musician of 30 plus years, several records produced, many songs written. A friend to many, a church goer, a believer. A talent that has always been welcomed wherever I am. In other words people love me, and I love people. I don't have this huge knowledge of music theory to challenge the masses, but have always had enough feeling in music that theory was never an issue, at least for me. I hold an associates degree from one of the top audio schools in the country, a course directors recipient, and a good colleague to my classmates. Some of whom I connect with to this day. Currently Im 40 years old at the time of this writing, at the tail end of a year that has shattered me, many around me, a place of brokenness of spiritual proportions. From nightmarish drug reactions, to misdiagnosis, to abandonment, and to what is left of a broken world that was my own. I sing a song of newness of life, a higher calling that I would not ever guess could happen. The clouds of pain have turned to anger against a system, that claims to help people, but in the end only keeps people sick, longer, and in torment. How long will we keep people sick, or say they are, before we come to the heart of the matter? What pain I have gone through to come to this place, a place of vision and direction. This is dedicated to my friend "Sandy" who was always there on any recording occasion, and times of just plain fun, I miss you dearly.  

Preface

Welcome. This is my place where I am going through my own life as best as I can, from every age and every event up to the present. I will say currently I am enrolled at The University (sorry no advertisement) as a psych/mental health major. As a result of all that's happened.