Masuma Begum
Professor Metenko
Killer Writing-FIQWS 10105 HSK1
Narrative writing draft
11/15/21
Rebirth and Resurrection
It was a bright sunny morning in a classroom that smelled like pencil sharpener shreds and crayons. The students are talking and finishing up their classwork while the teachers are yelling. In the corner of the room where the desks are placed together, the sun was kissing my skin as it lit through the room. I was alone. No one wants to bother to sit next to me as I seem like a plague to them. It is as if I have done something that irked them. However, it didn’t bother me that much. I continued to stay in my own little universe where I cared about no one else but myself. It’s always about me, myself, and I. Even though I don’t seem as bothered, that feeling of resentment is buried deep inside. I always wondered, “is there something wrong with me? Or “is something wrong with the people surrounding me?” Thinking to myself, I believe that no one would ever want to be around someone like me. This was until, that thought was interrupted, when a tall woman with short and curly grey hair and glasses came in front of the classroom. She wore a short navy blue jacket with a sweater that had a red Christmas tree pattern in rows and long black pants with her snow boots. When we made eye contact, she told my classroom teacher that she came here to pick me up for my IEP class. The teacher nodded and I was allowed to leave that dull classroom.
I remembered earlier in the morning of September 8, 2010. It was foggy and tropical outside on the first day of school. At first, I thought I was going to be in that tall, grey colored building plastered with bricks. That building was supposed to be for grades 3-5, which I was supposed to be in. I was really excited to start my first day of third grade. However, that dream would soon die out as my parents went in another direction. Much to my confusion, I told them that I am going to third grade and that the tall grey building is where I am supposed to be. But instead, they ignored me and headed straight to where a small, turquoise green mini building that children from grades K-2 attend. That is when I figured out that something was wrong. The school social worker saw me and we walked straight to my second grade classroom. I told her I was supposed to be in third grade, but she told me that I am going to be in second grade again. Feeling a sense of despair, I had lost all hope. As soon as I saw new faces in the classroom that I had recognized from before, I felt small. I have seen these students but don’t personally know them well. Almost everyone recognizes each other while I am left out. So, in order to fit in, I decided to throw away my old personality. I wanted to become different so that I don’t carry the traumatic feeling of when I got bullied in my first year of second grade.
To everyone, I was seen as someone who is a nuisance. I want to be able to fit in because I want to be different. By getting rid of my old personality of being extroverted, open, loud, dominant and warm, I can hide my inner suffering by creating a new personality. From that pain, I became introverted, quiet, soft spoken, very shy, and distant. That way, no one can detect that I am the person that they have seen before. It was a way to keep myself hidden. However, over throughout my 2010-2011 school year, I started to interact with my classmates more. I became friendly and open due to my interaction with my friends who were also with me, which in turn, allowed me to make acquaintances and enemies with other people. By meeting new people. I began to disregard students and teachers who were with me in my first year of second grade class. To me, they resembled the old me and my suffering. The students remind me of the time that I felt inferior to them because of them constantly bullying me. On the other hand, the teachers remind me of the time that they did nothing to help me when I was being tormented and felt alone. Whenever they would try to say hello to me, I often ignored them. I acted like I never knew them and often told my new peers that I don’t know them. By not giving them attention, they won’t have to reveal my past to them. This is my own way of escaping from my own trauma, as not many people would understand my bullying experience.
