Eureka! Inspired!

Following the great advice of a friend (you know who you are, and thank you infinitely) and listening to her supportive words, I have decided that I will write when inspired and not force myself to write when I am not. As soon as I let myself be okay with that, I read down the prompts list. I found a topic that I could easily write about. So, we're back on. 

January Seventh - Teacher's Pet

This is more the story of a Not-So Teacher's Pet. Back in grade 3, I had a teacher, let's call her Mrs.Y, who was not very kind. For some reason or another, she was especially unkind to me. The sort of insensitive person who would say cruel things in a kind voice. I have never, ever forgotten this teacher, and I have vowed, as a teacher to always be careful what I say.
I won't say that my insecurities necessarily stem from her, but the two worst comments she ever made to me were about my weight and about my artistic capacities, both of which are things that fuel my low self confidence. 

One day, after summer break, I went back to school to find out that I had Mrs.Y this year. I had her before, when I was younger, and I don't especially remember anything too terrible. However, upon coming back to school in grade 3, she greeted us at the door of our old rotting portable class room. The typical "welcome back", "glad to see you" and "my have you grown" was heard as the students filed into class. When I placed my foot onto the first step, she smiled widely and said: "Bonjour Chantou, que tu as grossi!". Now, for those who don't speak French, the verb GROSSIR is to grow, but more precisely to get fatter. I felt completely humiliated and deflated. What a wonderful first day back. 

Throughout the year, she continued to call me Chantou, despite me reminding her and telling her angrily at times that my name isn't Chantou but in fact Chantal. I still, to this day, do not know why she chose to call me that. 

About halfway through the year, we had an art assignment. I don't remember the exact details but it had something to do with a self portrait. Now, I am by far not the best artist and my drawing capacities aren't great. However, in grade 3 I wasn't necessarily applying to art school. The day, as we sat at our desks working, Mrs. Y strolled through the aisles inspecting our work. She would walk by the desks and pass comments. "Oh wow, you are definitely a better artist than me!" she would say to one or two students. She walked by my best friend and said: " Oh... you're about just as bad as I am." I remember thinking that was awfully rude and I felt bad for my friend. I figured we'd talk about it at recess. A few steps further and she was next to me. I remember feeling anxious, hoping she wouldn't say anything at all. Nothing is better than anything degrading. Unfortunately, my wishes were ignored that say as she opened her mouth and said, in French of course: "Wow, you are much worse at drawing than me!". I didn't even know how to react. I just felt sad. What else could I do anyway? 

There's no easy way to end this little story except to say that I was so, so glad when that year was over and crossed my fingers that I would never have to be in her class again. That final wish was indeed answered.