Dear Fifth Grade Teacher,
You should have lost your licence to teach years before I entered your classroom – bitter old witch. I hated you, I hated going to school because of you. You clearly had no interest in teaching young children so why did you even bother? Oh wait… you had your favorites. Those who weren’t one of them, like me for instance knew who you liked best.
You liked the kids who had a strong sense of self, who were outspoken, who participated often and ignored those who lacked the confidence they needed. I never understood why you were the way you were. You helped and encouraged them and ignored or belittled so many others.
So much so that you yelled and screamed about stuff that wasn’t even our (my) fault. You wondered why you had so many complaints from parents and students. You had troubles in your life and you let it out on your students. That’s wrong on so many levels. I don’t think you ever understood that – even after you got fired for being such a horrible human.
I don’t know where you are today, what you’re doing, or even if you’re still alive. There’s something I’d like you to know. You made me cry, you forced me into extremely uncomfortable situations by singling me out, you pushed me down instead of helping me up, and worst of all you unconsciously tried to destroy any sense of self I had when I was in your class – and you tried to play the innocent card.
I wish I could face you and tell you all of this right to your face. Just to see your reaction. I wish you could see me now though. I wish you could see me flourish in ways that you couldn’t possibly imagine. I wish you could see that quiet girl (me) break down every mean, backhanded comment you have ever made about me. I wish you could see the confident, intellectual, bad-ass that I have become.
I’m all Grown Up