Nancy wrote about Rachel's experience at school, discovering that she is not perfect. Such a crushing feeling, that is...
So I wanted to tell this story about my mom...
When my mom was in Grade Four her teacher was Miss Thomas. (Later, Miss Thomas would move from Raymond to Taber, where, as Mrs. Woolley, she also taught Arlene and I language and literature in Grades 4-6; and she was in our ward and became one of my mother's good friends. But that was later...)
Miss Thomas announced that there would be a spelling test that week as usual, but THIS TIME, if all the children got 100% on their spelling test, there would be a party. My mother, like me and Nancy and Rachel and Elizabeth and [insert the names of most of the people in our nuclear and extended family] was a perfectionist, or precisionist--you pick your preferred terminology. So, she ALWAYS got 100% on her spelling tests. Like, hello--not get 100%? What does that even mean? As usual, my mom studied her heart out, but she was really nervous, because so much was riding on this--one person's failure would mean no party for the whole class.
And so...well, you have already guessed the ending. My mom got one word wrong. Every other child in the class got 100%, and she, the one whoALWAYS usually got 100% did not. So...no party for the whole class. And it was her fault.
She was not a popular child anyway, probably due to, you know, always getting 100%, so boy, did the other kids have a party making fun of her for ruining the party that they did not have.
Miss Thomas could be a bit on the snarky side, too, so she also added to mom's misery.
And just because I don't want people to think badly of Miss Thomas, because she was a very nice lady--
When Miss Thomas was Mrs. Woolley years later, she could still be snarky. I can remember children bragging in class, and her sarcastic response, "Well, bully for you!" But she had certainly learned compassion after she became a mother. We had a family of children who had moved to Taber from Hong Kong, and their English was not so great. So, Holly was put (temporarily) in grade two, even though she was Arlene's age (grade six) and Elaine was put (temporarily) in grade four with us (even though she was at least junior high age). We always did oral reading in school, where we would all take a turn to read aloud from the text. When it was Elaine's turn, she was (of course) stumbling over the words. Some of the kids started to laugh. I was so worried and upset for Elaine, thinking about what I could do to help her but afraid of the kids who were laughing...but Mrs. Woolley put on her best mad-teacher face and practically spat the words out so the kids could read them, "Stop laughing this instant. Elaine can read some English, and it isn't the best because she is just learning, but she is fluent in Chinese. How many of you are fluent in Chinese? I would like to see each of you who is laughing plunked down in a classroom in China and see how you would do--Chinese is a much more difficult language than English is. Then we would see who was laughing! I do not want to hear this reaction from any of you ever again!" It was an awesome moment.
So I wanted to tell this story about my mom...
When my mom was in Grade Four her teacher was Miss Thomas. (Later, Miss Thomas would move from Raymond to Taber, where, as Mrs. Woolley, she also taught Arlene and I language and literature in Grades 4-6; and she was in our ward and became one of my mother's good friends. But that was later...)
Miss Thomas announced that there would be a spelling test that week as usual, but THIS TIME, if all the children got 100% on their spelling test, there would be a party. My mother, like me and Nancy and Rachel and Elizabeth and [insert the names of most of the people in our nuclear and extended family] was a perfectionist, or precisionist--you pick your preferred terminology. So, she ALWAYS got 100% on her spelling tests. Like, hello--not get 100%? What does that even mean? As usual, my mom studied her heart out, but she was really nervous, because so much was riding on this--one person's failure would mean no party for the whole class.
And so...well, you have already guessed the ending. My mom got one word wrong. Every other child in the class got 100%, and she, the one who
She was not a popular child anyway, probably due to, you know, always getting 100%, so boy, did the other kids have a party making fun of her for ruining the party that they did not have.
Miss Thomas could be a bit on the snarky side, too, so she also added to mom's misery.
And just because I don't want people to think badly of Miss Thomas, because she was a very nice lady--
When Miss Thomas was Mrs. Woolley years later, she could still be snarky. I can remember children bragging in class, and her sarcastic response, "Well, bully for you!" But she had certainly learned compassion after she became a mother. We had a family of children who had moved to Taber from Hong Kong, and their English was not so great. So, Holly was put (temporarily) in grade two, even though she was Arlene's age (grade six) and Elaine was put (temporarily) in grade four with us (even though she was at least junior high age). We always did oral reading in school, where we would all take a turn to read aloud from the text. When it was Elaine's turn, she was (of course) stumbling over the words. Some of the kids started to laugh. I was so worried and upset for Elaine, thinking about what I could do to help her but afraid of the kids who were laughing...but Mrs. Woolley put on her best mad-teacher face and practically spat the words out so the kids could read them, "Stop laughing this instant. Elaine can read some English, and it isn't the best because she is just learning, but she is fluent in Chinese. How many of you are fluent in Chinese? I would like to see each of you who is laughing plunked down in a classroom in China and see how you would do--Chinese is a much more difficult language than English is. Then we would see who was laughing! I do not want to hear this reaction from any of you ever again!" It was an awesome moment.
1 comment:
I remember this story... Mom's story. Years later, I could feel the hurt while she was telling me what had happened.
Great story, Myrna. Memories... Memories... So timeless sometimes!
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