Category Archive: flashback

The gifted class

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Tue. August 19, 2008

The other day, I read something on Julius’s blog that caused me to thing back to my time in the gifted class in elementary school. Back in grade 5, I was made to take an IQ test of sorts. I actually remember thinking about how fun the darn thing was. It was all like a small game show in my mind. Anyway, I think my teacher noticed that I was advanced and getting a little bit bored with the material, so she recommended that I get tested. My parents, God bless them, had no clue about all of this gifted business, so just consented. Hey, whatever works, right? When the results came in, it was recommended that I be transferred, so that was that.

When I joined in grade 6, I was joining a class that had already had one grade to bond together. You see, the gifted programme started in grade 5. So I have to admit that I didn’t really feel like I could mesh with everyone at the time. Hell, I was already socially awkward–almost used to being an outcast and ostracized from my time previous years for the greivous sin of knowing too much–so, I figured it was just par for the course. Thing is, despite not being entirely able to mesh, this was the first time that I was in a group where I felt like I belonged. How can I describe that? It’s more like, it was the first time I understood that no, being smart wasn’t something that should be stifled or hidden for the sake of fitting in. Being in that class, among similar people gave me free license to let me mind expand, to which I’m entirely thankful.

As you could imagine, a class like that sort of generates a bit of a clan mentality. See the school didn’t consist of purely gifted classes. There was also the “regular” class. God, I hate that term because it makes me sound so bloody elitist. Anyway, just due to the nature of the split, there was a definite rift between us and our counterparts. It wasn’t uncommon for them to taunt us and call us “brainers” as a derogatory. I don’t ever recall us fighting back. I mean, it’s not like we did anything to intentionally put us above the other class. We just put up with it. Early on, we were in our own silos, not really interacting with the other half. Within our classes we relied on each other as a survival mechanism.

That all sounds well and good, doesn’t it? As is the nature of things though, things weren’t so clear cut. Within our class, there were outcasts among the outcasts. I consider myself fortunate. I think I was more one of those floater types; I didn’t really belong to any group and was really on the periphery of a lot of things. I felt like I was just “there” and didn’t get much attention. For my personality especially, I think I was fine with that. I think I had too many eccentricities and quirks for that to work. You know, I might even consider myself borderline outcast, but really that was self-imposed. Anyway, as an observer, looking back now I almost feel sorry for some of the people that got the brunt of the taunting. That’s not to say some of it was undeserved, but God, I pray that some of them have gotten so much stronger from having survived all of that. I know some of them have and have gone on to bigger and better things.

Through the wisdom of the teachers, we eventually did start sharing certain subjects with the other class. See, both sides had the same curriculum, but maybe we had a little bit more enrichment. Does that make sense? Anyway, over time, due to all that integration it seemed like a lot of the sniping died down. By grade 8, I could swear that it wasn’t so much an us vs. them thing anymore. We were just the other class. Sure, still “brainers” but whatever.

A lot of this just sits in my memories as a time when I was just coming into my own, trying to build a sense of self. I am thankful for this period as a time when I realized that I’m not so broken. It wouldn’t be until late high school that I’d start feeling that way again, but…that’s another story.

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Like a muffin or a beet

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Fri. April 25, 2008

Out of the blue this old commercial popped into my head and I haven’t really been able to get it out.

In my mind, I associate this PSA with grade 6. It reminds me of this guy named Luke who used to sing this damn tune on the bus. I’m sure he thought he was being funny, but in the end it just made me think of that guy as being a nutjob.

What do I remember about this guy? Well, he took a liking to pretending to have trashy orgasms on the school bus. It became routine for the school driver from hell to bellow out: “Luke-a-shuttuppa!” He used to howl when you said “snare drum.” On a dare, I got him to do a snot rocket in the school yard. Unfortunately for everyone, he found enjoyment in doing them. Even more unfortunate is the fact that the guy was brimming with mucus. You could hear it in his voice. I’m sure that he would have suffocated if he didn’t expel that glop somehow.

I had to do a dance routine with the guy once for gym class. Fuck, I don’t know what to say about that event. There’s a midpoint somewhere between having fun and being mortified. I’m sure I leaned toward the mortified end of the spectrum, but that guy was pretty damn shameless.

I remember being stuck with him on a research project on the Galapagos Islands. At some point early on in the process he announced that he’d be going on vacation in the Caribbean. He said that he wanted to help out but his computer suddenly came down with serious virus. Bullshit. He even printed out a sheet with some bloody garbled junk on it: “5the 5the 5the”. Of course, back then I had no idea about computer stuff back then so I just accepted it while knowing he was a being an outright bastard about it. It didn’t matter anyway: I was perfectly capable of doing the work on my own. In the end, I submitted the report without his name on it. What could he do about it being off in the Caribbean?

In the end, the guy moved to Buffalo. Prior to, he kept bragging about being enrolled into Nichol’s Academy, and making a joke that they had a high school named “Dime’s.” Ooh Lord. The joke wasn’t funny the first time around. Interestingly enough, it didn’t get any funnier by the 23rd time.

That’s all I care to drag out of my head for now. It’s quite enough for me to remember his telling me not to put it in my mouth.

ICK.

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5 years

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Sat. February 9, 2008

This anniversary sort of came and went. This blog now has entries going back 5 years! I really should have a bit more fanfare regarding this birthday. I think I was originally planning on writing out some long account of how it got to this point, but I just never got around to it. At this point I think I’m just a little too lazy to get into all of the fine details.

Of course, some people who know the history will know that I actually started writing almost 6 years ago in April 2002. Just, out of a moment of sheer stupidity and really bad software I ended up losing entries from April 2002 to February 2003. There were a lot of good things in there–it’s really a pity that those posts disappeared into the Internet ether, you know?

If I still had those posts I’d have a bit of a better record of my personal growth; a lot can happen in 5-6 years. Of course, that doesn’t mean I hold the five years I have recorded in lower regard. Oh hell no. Reading back on things I wrote in the early years, it really triggers memories of various crises involving social acceptance and realizations of self-worth. I think back then I was fond of saying that I was undergoing an internal revolution. I had to go through this period because I was tired of feeling like my worth was based solely on what people thought of me. Due to certain conditions, it was hard to break free of old habits and to not see myself through the eyes of others. When I realized that I don’t have to be tied to people who made me feel like I was worthless, I became freer. That was part of my revolution. I’m not saying I’m no longer having any issues regarding self-worth, but I now have a bit of perspective that maybe wasn’t as strong in my younger self.

Maybe also worthy of note is my transition from writing about the sheltered academic world to writing about the working life. The shift in focus is interesting to me, at least, because I can compare and contrast how I’m applying my personality to these two distinct worlds. In school, success is (for the most part) directed inwards. In contrast, the working world relies more heavily on how well you interact with your colleagues. The transition hasn’t been without the occasional hiccups. From what I’ve written, it seems like my personality is very much the same between the spheres of existence. It’s just…mmm…now I’m finding more facets to who I am now that I’m being forced to put myself in these new situations. Does that make sense?

Sharon’s told me in the past that since early high school I’ve had a bit of that “this is who I am–take it or leave it” air about me. That kind of attitude can be dangerous because it’s often associated with pretentious bastards who try too hard to seem important. I don’t want to say that I’m not like that, but because of my introverted nature (outgoing as it may be, it’s still introverted) it’s internalized and left for other people to discover on their own–leading them to love or loathe. I guess these past 5 years of writing are a good window into that internal engine.

So, what lies ahead? Five years from now I’ll be in my 30s. Maybe life will be totally different. Maybe it’ll be the same. Either way, I hope that I continue to make the effort to write so that by my return of Saturn I can look back and see just how far I’ve come after all this time.

Here’s to another five.

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Flashback: “Beaver!”

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Sat. February 2, 2008

I’m not really sure why I’m writing about this event that probably took place 16 or 17 years ago. The memory suddenly popped up in my mind, and it’s sort of festering there. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m currently wearing braces. Who knows? So I’m going to write about it in the attempt of letting it go.

This actually took place way back in grade 3 or 4. It was recess and I was walking around the schoolyard alone as was kind of standard back then. I’d just moved to that school in grade 3 and fitting in wasn’t easy at all. I don’t know what it was but unlike my previous school I was a social outcast. Sure, I had a few friends, but I was often the butt of sneers or whatever it is that school children do. Maybe it’s just that I hadn’t gotten used to the idea of reeling in my intelligence to fit in, or that I was too serious for my age, or that I wasn’t dressing like the others. Well, whatever the case was that made me “weird”, walking around the yard alone was normal. It’s sort of sad when I think about it.

Anyway, back to the story. As I was wandering around, Tommy to class clown/irritant came up to me and said: “do you want to be really cool?” Well, how can you pass that up, eh? He said, “go up to Lena and call her a beaver!” I guess I thought it was innocuous–you know, harmless name-calling. Lena was a girl in my class that I didn’t really talk to. So, I spotted her on the bench over at the baseball diamond. She was flanked on either side by her friends. I casually walked over and did my duty.

“Beaver!”

I started walking away shortly after, but not before I heard one of her friends yell out in anger “go away, Jason!” I didn’t notice it before when I was approaching her, but after the fact I noticed that Lena was almost in tears. Her friends were actually there consoling her from some previous hurt. At the time I hadn’t drawn any connections and just moved on with life.

After school, we were all in the process of leaving the school grounds. There were a couple of classmates around as we left the playground area. As I was leaving the school to walk home, I overheard Lena speaking to her mother: “There! He’s one of them!” The mother asked which one, and she pointed in my general direction. I was still oblivious to any relevance to whatever had transpired earlier.

The next day, in French class, a teacher from another grade came storming in demanding apologies from several people. She told certain people to stand up. I think that included Tommy among others. I wasn’t actually told to stand up. I didn’t know what was going on. Then she started: “How dare you make fun of Lena! What gives you the right to make fun of her front teeth!” EH??? Finally, it dawned on me what that whole “beaver” business was all about. I felt horrible. One of the few that were singled out started protesting. He was saying that he never made fun of Lena. Outside of this incident I knew this guy to be very honest and polite, so I really believed that he wasn’t involved. Then I realized that the day before this guy was walking close by to me when I was leaving for home the day before. I guess when Lena pointed me out her mother thought it was the other guy. I gave a quick glance over to Lena, and she glanced back. She was really wanting to correct the teacher and point out that it was me. It’s just that the teacher was on such a tirade that she couldn’t really get a word in. She raised her hand and quietly tried to correct her: “but…!” There was no use though. The damage was done.

I never did apologize to her because I was fighting my own struggles back then as well. It’s probably all inconsequential now at this point in life. However, I sort of feel bad now thinking that I unwittingly became a part of the problem that was making my life difficult as well. It’s hard being different at that age. There’s a certain amount of cruelty that exists in that setting. The cruelty fades over time in more ways than one.

People mature. People heal. Some people don’t forget though–I’m one of them.

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Don’t look back

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Sat. February 17, 2007

A little while ago, I chatted a little bit with Sharon about general stuff. At some point she mentioned that she’d met with someone named Veronica from our year in high school. She said that Veronica remembered me, and said hello. To my (minor) embarrassment, I had no recollection at all of who this Veronica person was. Sorry!

I don’t know. It seems to be something that happens often with mentions of people from high school. Have I driven out the memories? Was it just that I really didn’t spend much time getting to know people? I guess it’s easier for people to remember me, being that I was “up there” in the realm of academics.

No, I’m not bragging–just saying, is all. Besides, look where those academics have gotten me. Psht.

Anyway, back to the story. For a few days I was trying to scan my memory to figure out just who this person was. The urge faded as the week passed. Which brings me to this morning. I’m in the process of doing laundry and generally tidying things up in my room. As I looked around, I spotted some of my old high school yearbooks. I ventured over and picked one up with the intention of solving the mystery. As I flipped through the pages, I saw things that gave me pause for reflection. The books were full of greetings from people that were in an out of my life during that period. It’s…kind of mind-numbing. I mean, some of the messages are people who I haven’t seen in ages talking about high school in the present tense. In my mind, my memories of them are frozen in that time period. It makes me a bit curious as to what they’re up to, but…just in passing–if only because that book pulled the trigger, know what I mean?

Also in among the messages are well-wishes from some people with whom I’ve known beyond high school, but are now on non-speaking terms with. Hahah. There’s a lot of irony in those messages and all at once it makes me laugh and feel worn-out.

I see my pictures from high school, and I feel contempt. Who is that poor fool staring back at me? What was wrong with you back then? Why were you the way you were? Did you think things would get better? They kind of did. Sort of. My grad photo message involved me talking about yak-cheese being used as an insulating material. How strange! Par for the course, back then, really.

Do I hate what I was? I kind of do. I mean, keeping stable nowadays has been an uphill battle, a lot of which stems from events in that formative period. I should be over it, but, can I really be rid of it? Not for a while, anyway.

Some people still dwell on the past and revisit it all too often. I don’t want to at all. I’d like to think that I’m all about there here and now. However, I do find myself sort of tied to the past. I kind of think that most people who are stuck on the past are focused on people, stuff and events. In my case, it’s about the emotions and mental states, which is perhaps a hell of a lot less healthy. If my sense of self is based on this unstable foundation, maybe that’s why I’m still uneasy about life.

For now, I still have myself. I have my career, my friends, and things will be all right. I don’t want to focus on the past.

In the end, I did find out who Veronica was.

I don’t think I ever spoke a word to her.

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