Once You’re Down in a Rural Town You’re Never Getting Back Up
What remedial math class taught me about my self worth
My first experiment in rebellion happened in third grade. It didn’t turn out well for me. In fact, the consequences were so painful that, even today, I can’t reflect on it without flinching.
I learned early that rural school served no purpose other than torture. The bus ride took forty minutes, which meant forty minutes of beatings from the older kids, both on the way to school and on the way home. You couldn’t fight back because punishment was reserved for those who retaliated.
“Well, he hit me first.”
“Did you like it?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think it’s an appropriate solution to hit him back? Aren’t you only behaving like him?”
“So, what should I do instead?”
“You should come to me and I’ll tell him to stop.”
“You’ve told him to stop a whole bunch of times and he keeps doing it. Can you try something else please?”
“You’re a very obstinate and disrespectful little boy. If you keep smarting off to me, I’m going to slap you.”
