Every time I think of High School, my head spins round and round. High school brings me mixed emotions and completely irrational thoughts. Well, what can I do? High school really seems crazy.
My first year was a sprinkle of suspense and a cup of drama. At school, everybody seems to know everybody. I was nobody. I was the city girl. I moved to the province as a need since my then sick father has to make a living and quit feeling and looking like a beggar to his siblings. He had a slip disc, and it was awfully painful, he had to move because he was nearly broke.
Moving was not new to me, at the age of 7 I experienced new neighborhood, new friends, new classmates and new nemesis. Since then I never settled in a single place, literally and figuratively. Moving did something to me, I stopped missing people and I started longing for home. But that is not what I am trying to write today.
Anyway, my classmates were playmates and neighbors since birth-at least most of them. They practically knew each other’s parents, so therefore, I cannot relate. It’s not really very dramatic, I made friends, Yes, I did! Though new in town, I am not particularly shy! Which is why on the first day of English class, my teacher shed tears.
She was discussing poetry and emotional baggage. She just recently lost a husband I heard at that time. She discussed “Footprints in the Sand” and how it moved her, and that it changed her life. I was not sure if I was the only one who have read, can relate or who understood or have interest in it but I was the only one who raised a hand when she asked about the Lord’s reply at the near end of the poem.
The Lord replied, “My precious, precious child,
I love you and I would never, never leave you
during your times of trial and suffering.
“When you saw only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you.”
I did not expect her reaction, and it drew attention from the rest of the class. My teacher stopped, and the next thing we saw she was sobbing. At 13, I was pretty scared. Did I hurt her? Did I say something bad? Then she looked at me, she paused and she said, “I’m sorry class!” We were dismissed early. Outside of class, my classmates teased me. I, on the other hand, wondered why I was the only one who knew about the poem.
The story of how I memorized the poem is somewhat dramatic, and I want to discuss it separately maybe when I feel melancholic again.
My teacher did not forget me since then, I became one of those who made a mark.
My grade? She never disappointed my report card. 🙂