As a kid in Catholic School Valentine’s Day was a whole to-do. Not only was a week dedicated to the day and the accomplishments of Saint Valentine (which I remember none of), but the uproar of potential love letters that never came. It really makes no sense, we were only in grade school, how in love could one be? I deluded myself into thinking there were secret admirers at every turn.
I had two very close friends Maya and Amanda, both of whom hated one another and adored me. I suppose I should have been grateful, but it was stressful and annoying; plus there was one girl on campus, Megan that everyone should have hated and didn’t. She was a cranky little bitch with a boot shoved up her ass, but everyone tolerated her for some reason I still cannot put my finger on.
—–
I was an utter failure at that point in time (1st grade); I was not getting good grades in reading nor writing. I cried all the time. I was in a constant state of confusion and frustration, but no teacher could help me. My parents couldn’t help me. I was dumb.
Valentine’s Day seemed like a release from a prison I was stuck in and I was looking forward to it for much longer than I probably should have. Our teacher let us make Valentine’s Day boxes to hold our V-day cards; we got candy and free time for the rest of the day. At one point our teacher let us go around the classroom and place our V-day cards in everyone’s boxes, then we returned to our desks to find what we had gotten.
My box was full, but of course it was our teacher made us give every student a card and them vise-versa. So I found the three most important cards, one from Amanda, one from Maya and the last one from my crush Xavier. Xavier didn’t like me, he liked Tracy and I knew it, but I still wished he would say it was me. His card was stupid, something about friendship or whatever so I kept it but I didn’t love it. Amanda’s gushed about our friendship and Maya’s wasn’t actually for me.
TO: Sonja
FROM: Your best friend EVER Maya.
I was heartbroken, Maya had another best friend and it wasn’t me. Not only that but she gave me that stupid other friend’s card. I stared at it and kept repeating in my head “Son —- JA who is Son—– JA?!”
———–
The rest of the day went by in a sad little blur, I didn’t talk to anyone and to make matters worse my teacher Mrs. Asta gave all of us a word search to pass the time. Word searches for those who didn’t have reading problems were utterly pointless mindfucks that made the student feel even stupider because they couldn’t decipher words from none words in a muck of
HLDDIVIEBBNGNUUDL;WPGGGGGGGRNEDJMGBBSUZOG
SDAKLGYAOURTBKFDSKYPERTYREJWKFKYGUIYGHKJSDGE
DFJKGSYDHERWYNREKJYVSUHYP2WUROQUISRHGKJDBN
FDSJKLGYERTIWERNHJDKSHOSIUGORIEUWYOERYTOERHKJ
“Uh I think my puzzle is broken?!”
It was the thing that sent me over the edge always and fuel from Maya’s revelation of a new better best friend named Sonja, I balled my eyes out. My teacher must have absolutely hated me, oh my God (except we were in Catholic school so she probably didn’t even think God’s name in vain) Oh my shit, that little brat is crying again! Shut up, shut up.
Mrs. Asta was like that, she didn’t like that I didn’t understand, she didn’t like that I wasn’t perfect, and she surely didn’t like that she was more than likely going to have to hold me back… but what else could she do? When the going got tough, I would just cry. That’s not progress. I didn’t even cry for attention, which one might suspect, I was literally so upset with myself and my broken brain that I would cry because bashing my head in the desk wasn’t an option.
—–
When the school day was finally over my Mom asked how my day was, and very sadly I replied. “Maya gave me someone else’s Valentine’s Day card, her name is Son———JA.”
My Mom could hardly speak through her laughter “Sonya, no one’s name is Son——ja, Maya just misspelled your name.”
For a long time I didn’t believe my Mom, but oh so many people have tried to change my name to ja. She might have been right, but then again Maya might have had another friend named Sonja (which means I knew how to read after all).
-ducksoup- 