Thursday, June 2, 2016

Now This is a Story...

Hello, Sunshine

I'd like to take a minute so sit right there, and I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air.

Or, I can tell you how I failed first grade.

...No joke.




When I was a kid, I was super shy. Hard to believe now because I may be, arguably, one of the loudest people will you ever meet. But back then, I was painfully shy. I talked to a grand total of six people and that was on a good day. I was afraid of my own shadow and didn't know how to make friends. I even remember hanging out by the swings with the adults in my preschool instead of with the other kids. Real cool.

My brother was practically a genius by first grade even though he was a year younger than his peers so my parents figured they could put me in school early too. Turns out, it wasn't a great decision. 

Kindergarten started, and I spent most of my days in the corner coloring. I had trouble tying my shoes, couldn't remember my address, and still had no friends.

First grade came around when I was five, and I was struggling big time. With everything. Including math. The teacher told us to turn our rulers over so we wouldn't cheat. PSH! Yeah, right. And phonics? I wasn't hooked on anything. To make matters worse, I didn't have the regular colored markers like red, blue, and green. I had the pastel colors. When the teacher said, "Take out your red marker to color in Pontius Pilate's cape." (That's what you do in Catholic school, draw pictures of people from the bible.) I raised my hand and said, "I don't have red. I have coral." That got me a stern look from the teacher and a couple of snickers from the bullies in the back row. Womp womp. 

I was going out to the trailer- you know those, the ones you go to for extra help- every day. I needed more time to learn everything, from spelling to handwriting, and had a slight speech impediment. (Now though I talk like Six from Blossom) The other kids in class ignored me for the most part, some picked on me, but a select few invited me by parental force to their birthday parties where I hung out in the corner because, of course, that's what shy kids at parties do. 

So, June finally rolled around and my mom showed up to the last day of school which was super unusual because my mom never came to school. I was really excited to see her until my teacher sat us both down with this weird expression on her face. I was obviously not the brightest bulb in the pack, but I knew KNEW this was bad.


I don't remember any of the conversation between the teacher, principle, and my mother besides the words "socially inept." I had no idea what those two words meant then, but I sure as hell do now. I was THAT kid. I was the super awkward kid. With big red curls and freckles! They could’ve made a cartoon about me. 

I went home crying after I was told I had to repeat first grade. I was upset, mad, and terribly embarrassed. I was already afraid of everyone in my class, what would they think of me now? I spent all summer fretting over it, working my six-year-old self-esteem even lower. 

By the time the first day of my second year of first grade finally showed up, I was a mess. New classroom, new teacher, new round of "friends" to make. I wearily found my seat and took out my pastel colored markers. That's when Brooke turned to me. She said, "I really like your markers." 

“I like your scrunchie,” I said.

And that's how I made my first friend in first grade. The rest of the day went swimmingly. The rest of my year even better. I crushed my second time in first grade! Turns out I just needed a little time to grow. I was a late bloomer.

Walking into the second round of 1st grade like a boss

Moral of the story: sometimes you don't understand 3 + 4 on your first try. Sometimes not even on your second, third, or fifteenth try. And it will hurt. Bad. It'll be upsetting, maddening, embarrassing, and will most definitely hurt your self-esteem. BUT there will come a time when you do get it. And it will be awesome. 

I've spent my life trying to prove I'm not a "failure," working doubly hard at everything I do to show the world and myself I'm not that self-conscious, backwards kid. And after years of trying to outrun my fear of failing, I've come to realize failure doesn't define who you are. Failure is just the bottom of the valley before you begin your ascension up the mountain. It may take a few times and a lot of wrong turns, but if you try hard enough, you'll make it to the top. Let failure push you to be better. 


I say to my writer friends, don't stop trying. Believe me, the late bloomer who was literally picked last for everything and legit couldn't read, I get it. Failure sucks, but eventually you’ll pass. Even with your pastel colored markers.

Hell, look at me, I got me an agent now. Still working on my grammer skillz tho. 


#EverythingIsBetterTheSecondTimeAround
Suz

P.S. Brooke is still one of my best friends. <3