Sr. Beverly Revisited…

I went to an all girls Catholic high school. And looking back on it now, I’ve always been opinionated. Taught from the time I was a child to always stand up for my rights, and never to let anyone trample on me. All of my years in school had been pretty tranquil, and I was typically known as the “teacher’s pet”. So in comes Sr. Beverly, during my Junior year at Hallahan Girls Catholic high school.

Now there was something about Sr. Beverly that just rubbed me the wrong way. The way she picked on certain girls in the class, usually all my friends. She’d twist their words around to make them look stupid and all of the girls in the class would laugh, she was such a clown. But I never did. The way she put people on the spot and made them feel insignificant never sat well with me. There was just something about the way she talked to me, how her eyes would open really large, she’d push her face really close to mine and stare at me as if she could expose my soul.

She had this “in your face” follow you around the school kind of philosophy on teaching. And for some reason today, when my husband and I were arguing about what color trim to put on the floors, she came to mind. It was was almost as if I gave into him, that it would be like being back in that classroom watching one of my friends being humiliated by her and staying silent. I could stay silent and just acquiese to what he wanted. Or I could open my mouth and say something to her, something to sting her and make her think and make the other girls laugh at her instead of my friends. And I’d save my friends from embarrassment and in turn save myself.

I deserve to have a say in this situation after all, I’m the person that is here the most often. I should just LOVE this space, every inch of it. So it’s like Sr. Beverly’s Religion class revisited at home today. Me, saying things that Sr. Beverly/ my husband didn’t want to hear, but that I had to say so that they wouldn’t weigh on my soul. And this time it’s not for my friends, but for me… so that I don’t have to look at myself in the mirror and feel pity. But so that I can look at myself and know that what happened was hard, but I’m a better person for having stood up for what I believed in, and not letting others trample over me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: