You want to know something about me? I was put ahead in school, skipped kindergarten and went straight to grade one. By grade 3 it caught up with me. Mathematically I was confused, reading and writing were frustrating; socially, being a very small and sensitive child, I was a mess. I was sent to the “resource” room for my apparent dyslexia, and over to the second grade classroom at math time. It was humiliating. I spent a good amount of my school time trying to hide my feelings and fitting in with a rough bunch of kids. I devoted so much time to survival, that academics quickly fell to the bottom of my priorities list. My big brother was a bit of a hellion, his reputation preceding my own had the teachers none surprised when I showed up in their classroom with a rebellious chip. I wasn’t a trouble maker, just indifferent, and as many a report card could attest I “Didn’t apply myself”. Looking back I think I could honestly say that most of my teachers didn’t really like me, or at least that I didn’t make their job any easier. My grades were consistently in the 55% range. I had an idea that if I could do just enough to be put forward into the next grade that at least I could stay with my “friends”, and as life was not safe, I needed to expend my energy in places other than homework. By grade 5 I had convinced myself I wasn’t any good at academics. What I didn’t know at the time was that school is often a poor determination of pretty much anything other than ones ability to survive institutionalization.
After the suicide of a friend in grade 11, I decided I had had enough. I transferred to a performing arts high school in the city and walked away from Springbank Sr. High School, determine to start a new life. In the beginning I worked really hard. I remember vividly getting back my first assignment in English 30, being told “Wow you did really well! You must have had a great English teacher in your old school!” I would tell you about my grade 11 English teacher at Springbank, but since Michael commended me on not blaming I will stick to saying that the aptitude which was exposed in that assignment was all mine! I received a 97%, only losing marks for spelling, this was a definite first for me. It would be a nice ending if I told you I kept up this commitment to my grades, but it would be untrue. I figured out early that grades meant very little, this part stuck. The part that came unstuck was the ideas I had about myself and my abilities in the language arts. I still can’t spell for shit, and couldn’t tell you what a dangling participle is, and I am a wonderful writer all the same.
There is another person in my life who made a huge difference in my beliefs around my writing skills. When I met her I didn’t really ”meet“ her at all. She was known to me as Dirtwitch, a force to be reckoned with from within the online parenting community known as Alternamoms Unite!; a fierce group of attachment parenting zealots who were not going to take any crap for the way we were choosing to raise our children. I posted the birth story of my Lily Rain Raabis, born September 20th 1998. I hadn’t written in a very long time, had gone on to become a massage therapist and fibre artist instead, leaving my words behind. I was putting myself out there with this piece of writing. This group of moms could be ruthless! Dirtwitch, who I now know as Kerry, replied to my post. I held my breath as I clicked on her response. I do not remember her exact words, this was 11 years ago, I do remember I cried from deep within the soul of my little 7 year old who longed to hear she was good at something that mattered to her. Kerry told me that my writing was phenomenal, that reading my words was akin to taking a journey, that it created visuals which allowed her to actually see events rather than just relating to them. I never stopped writing after that day.
Your act of kindness made a huge difference in my life Kerry . Thank you, from the bottom of my 7 year old and 35 year old soul, we were both healed by your words.
(Kerry and her big beautiful ”alterna“ family)
”Is there a person in your past who made a huge impact on your life and might not even know it?“ is the question in the front cover of 12 days journal #171
