Yesterday I was talking to my mum on the phone and she was complaining about the baby of the family and how she, my sister, was driving her crazy.
According to mum, my sister no longer listened to her and she in turn had resigned herself to giving her whatever she wanted.
I couldn’t help but admire my little sister in that moment.
Growing up, my case was the complete opposite. Mum and dad were always, and I mean ALWAYS, right and woe to me if I dared go against any of their wishes.
I remember the very first time I stood up to them.
I was in the third form in high school and had been sent home for allegedly participating in a students strike to avoid taking the mocks exams.
The suspension lasted two long weeks during which my parents heaped loads of hurtful words, all aimed at reminding me of what a dissapointment I was to them.
I couldn’t wait to get back to school.
Infact, it was the only time I had looked forward to it.
So there I was, in the principal’s office explaining that I had nothing to do with the strike and that mine had been an unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.Ofcourse the Lady was having none of it and kept saying I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing like all the rest and if I was to be allowed back in that school, I had to repeat the class.
I looked over at my parents for help…but they just sat there nodding their heads likes extras in a puppet show.
In that moment i felt like a tiny worm in the middle of a burning forest. They were wrong…all of them!
I had done nothing wrong and they were punishing me for telling them the truth. I stood there and watched as my dad rose to shake the headteacher’s hand and seal my fate.
I felt the hot bitter tears stinging the back of my eyes. I willed myself not to cry.
I remember the words forming in my mind, but I didn’t realize I actually said them out loud.
I was not going to repeat class!
I was not a below average student!
I deserved to be heard!
I would drop out of school first before repeating that class!
Well, to cut a long story short, I did get to move on to the fourth form the following year.
Don’t get me wrong, I still scrubbed pavements as a punishment for a week, but that look of utter disbelief on my parents face was a delicious moment that I will take with me to the grave.
worldofinkwithabitofflesh 