Masuma Begum
Professor Metenko
Killer Writing-FIQWS 10105 HSK1
Narrative writing
11/15/21
Rebirth and Resurrection
It was a bright sunny morning in a classroom that smelled like pencil shreds that came from an electric sharpener and crayons. The classroom is loud as the students are talking while finishing up their classwork and 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, which didn’t bother me as 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. However, the 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 accept me. The only escape that I have from my toxic classroom environment is by getting pulled out of the classroom by my speech teacher, IEP teacher, or a counselor at the right moment. By being in a different environment, I felt happy and safe. But, when I returned back to my classroom, I was back to my miserable state. This was back in my 2009-2010 school year of being in second grade.
For the rest of the school year in second grade, I was constantly picked on and bullied. When my classroom teacher would assign seats to students to sit at, everyone would refuse to sit next to me. This all started when one of my classmates said “today’s school lunch was gross. It smelled like hot garbage.” In agreement, I responded with “bleh”, and pinched my nose. Then all of a sudden, my other classmates at my table stopped what they were doing. They looked at me in distaste. One classmate said “are you feeling sick? If you are, get away from us.” Confusion rose as I thought to myself, about why would they treat me that way, when I was just pretending to vomit. All of a sudden, everyone started to move their desks away from me saying “ew, vomit girl! Move away from me.” Witnessing what has happened, the rest of the students in my class, decided to avoid me as well. As a few months have passed, I was ostracized by everyone. The difficulty arose, as I didn’t understand what drew everyone to go that far when they hated me. The teachers noticed, but did nothing to help. They dismissed it by saying “they just want to be your friends.”, “deal with it” , and “just ignore them.” This led me to realize that adults don’t always help. As a result, I kept my problems to myself because no one listened enough to help me. They just only allowed the bullying to continue. Day by day, I tried to find ways to push forward without breaking down. I felt lonely and helpless, since I can’t change the situation.
Now, it is 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 a tall, grey colored building plastered with bricks. Alongside it’s look, it has long, black, and cold gates surrounding it. Plastered at the entrance, it says P.S.56 on a big red door. That is the building I was supposed to be in, for grades 3-5. I was really excited to start third grade. However, that excitement and hope would soon vanish. Instead, my parents, whom I was with, went in another direction. Much to my confusion, I told them that I am going to be in third grade and that the tall grey building is where I am going to attend. But, they ignored me. So, we headed straight to where a small, turquoise green mini building is, that children from grades K-2 attend. It was when I figured out that something was wrong. The school social worker, Ms.Melendez, came to greet my parents and I. She looked at me and we proceeded to go to my second grade classroom. I told her I was supposed to be in third grade. She then replied, “you are going to be in class 2-2.” Losing all the hope that I had throughout the summer, I decided to accept my situation for what it is. As soon as I came into my new classroom, I saw familiar new faces that I had recognized from before. Almost everyone recognizes each other while I am left out. To change myself, 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 don’t want to be reminded of my experience of getting bullied. From there, I used to be extroverted, open, loud, dominant and warm. When I would meet new people, I would say “hi, what’s your name?” and try to get to know them. But now, I have become introverted, quiet, soft spoken, and distant. I would do what it takes to avoid unwanted attention. That way, no one can detect that I am the person that they have seen before. It was a form of defensive mechanism to hide my inner suffering through my new personality. In order to hide my pain, I became “someone I must survive into” by interacting with my new classmates. I began to disregard the old classmates and teachers who were with me in my first year of second grade class. In my view, they resembled the old me and my suffering. The students remind me of the time that I felt inferior to them because of constant bullying. It resulted in having a low self esteem about myself. On the other hand, the teachers remind me that they did nothing to help me when I was feeling unsafe. When they would try to say hello to me, I often ignored them. It became irksome. 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 coping with my trauma, as not many people would understand my experience of getting bullied.
Throughout my 2010-2011 school year, I got used to my new environment. I spent time with my old friend and my new friend by staying together with each other. We would often talk to each other by making jokes, telling scary stories, color in each other’s coloring books—-anything children would do. These moments helped me remember that even though there are people who want to hurt me, there are other people who would love me. Then, one day, a new classmate came into my classroom. He was crying while the teacher was comforting him, as he was introduced to the whole class. After that, he was assigned to sit next to me. Meanwhile, when it was the middle of the day, he asked “Who is this teacher? She seemed mean when I looked at her.” I said “she’s not mean. She’s nice because she gives us snacks all the time like cookies.” We then continued talking after that, which helped me break the ice. It made me feel like a new glowing sunshine, when I started talking to new people. It allowed me to show my new self, as a way to start a new chapter. By starting to regain myself through becoming friendly and open through socializing, I got to know a few more people. Towards the end of the school year, I was able to adjust to my new classroom despite the highs and lows of my everyday school life.
Thinking back, I always wondered, “what would life be like, if I didn’t get bullied in my first year of second grade?” If so, “Would I still be the person that I was back then?” Or the “person that I am right now?” It’s one of these questions that still remains 17 years later when I think deeply about it.
