I’ve been sick for the past few days and now that I’m not on my knees over a garbage can, I’ve decided to write a blog. Hmm..what to write about…what to write about. I think I will write about things that annoy me, two things in particular; being sick and gym teachers.
First, about being sick since it is freshest in my mind. What’s the deal with nausea? No, seriously, I just don’t understand why nausea was ever invented. I’ve been thinking about it for the past 24 hours because what else is there to do when you’re nauseous for 24 hours? I’ve decided that nausea must be some kind of punishment for the wrong we’ve done. We all sin, we all screw up and considering I hadn’t been sick like this in about 10 years, I’d say it was long overdue that I got “punished”. Perhaps I’m wrong. Actually, it’s rather likely that I’m wrong but I just needed to rationalize some kind of reason for the hell that is the perpetual state of feeling like you could throw up at any second. Yesterday was indeed absolute hell. I spent the entire day begging my boyfriend to kill me. Did someone say drama queen? Yes, I am a HUGE baby when it comes to being nauseous. Give me a cold and I will still bitch and moan but at least I won’t be praying for death like a diva who hasn’t gotten enough tabloid attention recently. Anyway, the day was saved in the end only by a couple of Disney movies which were able to calm my nerves and lull me to sleep. Thank you, Disney, you evil geniuses you.
Okay, that’s enough talk about nausea. I’ve had all I can handle in that area. Time to bitch about gym teachers! Who’s with me?? First off, if you’re a gym teacher and you’re reading this, be forewarned, I will not be kind.
My middle school gym teachers have scarred me for life. Who knew a gym teacher could have such an effect, right? Well, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; I don’t like being yelled at for things that are not my fault. If I have to re-hash these horrible instances in gym class so that you understand, I will. Then, I will cry alone in my room, wrapped in my comforter with the lights off, repeating over and over again “I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”
First instance: 6th grade gym (Maybe 7th, I can’t recall). Mrs. M. told the class to lay down, close our eyes, and listen to her direction. Well, I don’t learn very well if I can’t see what it is that I’m supposed to do. My first mistake was closing my eyes. There was another girl with the same name as me in class, so when Mrs. M. started shouting my name, I assumed she meant the other girl. I was never a troublemaker, I never spoke out of turn; hell, I barely spoke! So why on earth would she be shouting at me? Finally, Mrs. M. said “OPEN YOUR EYES!!” Once I had opened my eyes, she said “Now, does it look like you’re doing what everyone else is doing?!” No, no it did not. Like I said, I don’t follow direction well without a visual example of what I’m meant to do, not when it comes to exercise. So, while I was twisted into some weird pretzel, the rest of the class was sitting up, staring at me, and laughing. Great moment for a 12-year-old, right? I was mortified. Was I misbehaving? Was I disrupting the class? No. So please tell me, why did that woman need to scream at me and mortify me amongst my cruel and immature peers? Oh wait, there is no reason other than that she was obviously an unhappy lady who took pleasure in making her students miserable because she had no soul.
Second instance: 8th grade gym. Now, my eighth grade gym teacher was also a soulless bitch, but a different one. If you haven’t already figured out that I’m not very athletically inclined, I am telling you now: I suck at sports. Ms. Bitch had arranged a game of softball for us. I HATED playing softball. Too many girls on my team were actually on the Softball team and there I was, with no clue of the rules or what I was doing. I always prayed that class would end before it was my turn to go up to bat. Usually this worked for me but not this day. I finally made it up to bat, and instead of striking out (which would have been smarter for a girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing), I got a damn hit. I GOT A HIT. I ran to first base and I hear Ms. Bitch shout “OUT!” Now, I wasn’t sure why I would be out but I heard her say it, I didn’t see it because I was too busy running towards the base. I was disappointed. “I finally get a hit and now I’m out?” I asked the first baseman if she heard the coach say that I was out, and she did. Unfortunately, I don’t think either of us really knew what we were doing. I walked off the base and headed back to the bench. Shortly thereafter a member of the other team walked over to the bench and tagged me with that stupid baseball on steroids. Ok so…that was embarrassing, but what made it worse? Ms. Bitch then came storming at me from 3rd base and began SCREAMING at me. “What do you think you’re doing?! You don’t want to play so you think you can just walk off base?! Who do you think you are?!” etc etc. Again, let me remind you that I was never a troublemaker. I barely spoke and I avoided trouble at all costs. So again I ask you, why did this woman think it was a good idea to attack me for a mistake? I was a kid who didn’t understand the game! (For those of you wondering, it turns out that she did indeed shout “OUT” but it was meant for the girl on second base. How was I supposed to know? The Yankees have multiple umpires telling them who’s out and who’s safe, then Michael Kay tells me what happened.) That story ended with a lot of tears. A lot of tears. I can’t remember too much, but I can remember that little woman screaming in my face very vividly.
*Note to teachers: Screaming at a child will NEVER have a good effect. EVER. All they will learn is not to ask for help for fear of being mistreated. So for those teachers who read this to the end, I hope that is what you walk away with.
How does that affect my life now, you ask? Well, to this day, I am afraid of taking any group classes. That means, I don’t do yoga, I don’t do spin class, I don’t do step class and I won’t walk into a room where there is a group of people and a teacher up front. When I go to the gym, I work out in a corner somewhere by my lonesome. That’s why I hate gym teachers, how about you?