Open letter to my elementary school teacher.
Dear Miz I-don't-know-your-name-from-over-fifteen-years-ago,
I will apologize first hand for not recalling your name. You see, I've lost my memory of my elementary school years that I've spent with you.
And for good reason.
I cannot even imagine whatever emotions you've felt while you've watched at the sidelines when I ran over to you, crying- begging you to help me resolve whatever conflicts there was. Begging for you to listen to my words. To help me. Begging for you to save me.
But you never did help me, did you?
I do not know why you hated me so. Me, a young five year old child who was in your class for five years. I do not know what sparked this hatred- and frankly, I do not much care for it.
Do you remember what you told my parents when your crime was revealed?
You said everything was my fault. That it was because I was the weird one. That it was because I was different. So I am the bad one. It is my fault. Everything was my fault.
The fault of a five year old child? The fault of a five- six- seven- eight year old child?
Least to say that I am very "salty." And that's just putting it lightly. Very much so.
Yes, most of my memory from that time is gone. Erased. Blocked. Whatever terms the counselors used to describe this phenomenon of self-protection.
They called me a survivor. A victim. An innocent. A conquerer.
No. I do not care about these terms. And neither do I much care about what exactly ran through your mind when you allowed for my peers to break me down- mentally and physically.
Do you know what it's like to be alive yet not alive at all?
To be called names. To be called a faggot. A pig. An asshole. A mother f*cker. A piece of sh*t.
Whoever said that "sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never help me" - they lied. It hurts. Very much so. Do you know that when there is enough accumulation of mental pain and suffering, there are actual physical effects that can occur and last to the so-called victim?
Do you know what it's like to be beaten by your peers? Do you know what it's like to be looked at as "different"?
Those eyes that judge you silently, and those smirks that people give. Those rumours that the peers spread, and you- the homeroom teacher- utilizing me as a scapegoat to make people hate me even more so.
And of course you never use my name, but kids are smarter than you think.
So long as you guide them, they know exactly what you want.
You never believed that I would succeed. You always believed that I was a pathetic failure. And you called me as such as well. Made me see myself as worthless. Punished me in front of the class by using that ruler against my hands. Made everyone laugh at me when it was my turn to be punished. And you picked on me constantly.
Thanks to you, I developed a fear of people. I developed an anxiety disorder. I developed depression. And I became suicidal.
I actually attempted suicide several times. Ah- those I still remember.
As a child, I had a fear of people, so I always stayed in my room. I never wanted to be outside for too long. My heart- it hurt so much that I would hurt myself- hurt my precious body-
With knives, with pencils, with mechanical pencils- and beat myself with my hands. Constantly. With tears streaming from my eyes- crying out, wondering why people hated me so much. Wondering if I did not deserve to live.
And then, one year, there was a counselor, and that year, we just happened to have summer homework to write a diary. And I wrote one. And since it was a diary, I was honest. And I drew pictures- and I wrote how I was bullied by my peers.
How they tossed water at me. How they poured their milk on my face. How they beat me up, even breaking my glasses my smashing their lunchbox across my face. How I hurt myself physically. How I tried to kill myself. How you told me that I had to keep everything secret from other adults- from my own parents. You were the one who taught me never to trust others and deal with everything myself. And I wrote down how much I hated living and wanted to kill myself.
So they caught you, my dear. They caught you, and in the end, they didn't even file a police report about the incident. They only fired you. And you blamed me. And do you remember what you mouthed at me as you left the room? "It's all your fault."
Believe me, it wasn't easy getting over the worst tragedy of my life. The worst experience of my childhood.
My family, we moved to Canada- to escape from the pain. My parents tried to talk with me, but I wouldn't listen. Couldn't. Your "education" was so embedded into my brain, you see. So ingrained.
How long ago was it that I finally came to realize that your teachings were wrong. That I could be myself, and that some people wouldn't come to hate me.
I came to find my first friend in Canada. In high school to be specific.
For a child, a person, to have their first ever friend in High school. Ten long years- I have been without a friend. All because you told them. All because you used me as a scapegoat. All because you allowed for them to pick on me, and never learn about what sort of person I am in reality.
Because you chose to deny the existence of a five year old child. If you will excuse me angered tone, I must ask, "Just what sort of mindset did you have to devastate a young child?"
You never believed that I would surmount to anything. That I could never achieve anything. That I was a failure, and called me as such.
Well guess what?
As compared to the sore loser you treated me as back home, in Canada, I became successful.
I am now a 23 year old woman who has just completed her Bachelor of Arts in Law and Society this year. I don't just have friends- I have BEST FRIENDS with whom I've been friends for eight long years- and continue to do so. Guess what? I'm headed over the United Kingdom to complete a Bachelor's in Law. And once I do complete my LLB, I will complete my LLM, and I would love to meet you in the future- if I ever meet you.
And you know what? I would only act in accordance to what a MATURE RESPONSIBLE ADULT WOULD DO.
And if I find you, and if I EVER find out that you have done something like this to any other child- I will use all of my power to hunt you down. Because the fact that you use child in such a sad, immature way, means that you don't deserve to be an educator in any way.
I do hope you will forgive me with my frankness when I say, "Fu*k you."
Because education is important to society. And you've just corrupted the beauty of education for me. I love learning. And as a TEACHER, you have a DUTY to teach children about the excitement of learning. Not taint it.
You said that I was the failure and the loser back then.
Well, now I say that you are the failure and loser. So I do hope you will work hard to give back to society what you have damaged.
Best Regards,
Future Fighter of Justice.
