The Traumatization of a Third Grader

Certain moments remain frozen in time. For reasons I will never understand, frozen moments clamp down on the hands of a clock and force me to remember the most embarrassing and humiliating moments of my life. This is one of those moments.

Once a month, every month while I was growing up, students in our Catholic classrooms would walk single file down the hallway to go to church. When church was over, we would return to our classrooms.

For some reason, on this frozen-in-time day, Dale Reiser and I made it to our third grade classroom long before any of the other students arrived. Perhaps we were running. I don't remember that part, but I do remember seeing his beautiful curly head of blonde hair and thinking that he was so cute, I just had to run up and tickle him.

Why adults from every corner of the school didn't leap forward to stop me, I don't know. Absolutely no thoughts whatsoever ran through my head saying things like, "Don't you think this idea is stupid?" or "Stop yourself before you embarrass yourself!" Absolutely no thoughts whatsoever ran through my mind, period.

And so, in what must have looked like a deranged psychopath to Dale Reiser as I raced toward his desk (the look on his face was one of sheer terror), Dale Reiser's eyes nearly exploded out of his head as I ran up to him and tickled him.

Instantly I was horrified. What had I done? Of course, I didn't think those words until he looked up at me with appalling fear written all over his face and asked, "Why'd you DO that?"

My eyes sprung open. Why DID I do that? Could I dare tell him that it was because I thought he was so cute that I HAD to tickle him? Could I admit that I didn't have the ability to stop myself from tickling him or that I hadn't yet developed impulse control?

No, I just meekly said, "I don't know," slumped my shoulders forward, and returned to my seat.

It was the first time I ever felt blood rush to my face. And I never again looked at him.

And that completes Day #20 from the A-Z Challenge. Brought to you by the letter, T.

Previous A-Z Challenge blogs:

Amazon Hates Me – Day #1 from the A-Z Challenge

Bored – Why? – Day #2 from the A-Z Challenge

Craziness – Day #3 from the A-Z Challenge

When Your Daughter Develops, DON'T DO THIS! – Day #4 from the A-Z Challenge

Ellen – Day #5 from the A-Z Challenge

Family and Friends – Day #6 from the A-Z Challenge

The Grownup Table – Day #7 from the A-Z Challenge

Happiness & Joy – Day #8 from the A-Z Challenge

Idiots in the Attic – Day #9 from the A-Z Challenge

Jokes Accidentally – Day #10 from the A-Z Challenge

The Kid That Wasn't Named Ker – Day #11 from the A-Z Challenge

Living Out of Suitcases – Day #12 from the A-Z Challenge

Misunderstandings – I KNOW You Didn't Say What I THINK You Said

Networked Blogs on Facebook


The Old and The Elderly – At What Age Do You FEEL Old?


Peacocks Are Not Penguins

Quiz That Changed My Thinking

Reading Les Miserable
  
Sense and Nonsense

Tickling

A blog I just posted in my Help for Single Parents blog just reminded me of an incident that occurred when I was a child.

I was coming down the hall in school after having just gone to church with everybody else in my second grade class. Dale was the first one in the room. I followed him. Nobody was behind me, because Dale and I walked faster than the rest of the class.

There he was, this adorable little blonde, curly-haired seven year old. I couldn't help myself. I ran down the aisle and I tickled him. 

He looked at me in horror – WHY DID YOU DO THAT?

I should have said, "Well, Dale, I obviously suffer from impulse control." But my little seven year old brain was incapable of explaining my outrageous behavior. I retreated to my seat in shock, surprising even myself. What possessed me? 

Nobody said anything when the other kids filtered into the room and took their seats. Dale sat as still as a statue, frozen in his seat, terrorized by this much taller seven year old kid with razor sharp nails that probably sliced through his clothing – a Freddy Krueger movie in the making.

I'm sure I gave the kid nightmares, because I came out of nowhere and just plunged my fingers into his side, tickling and tickling him because he was just so darned cute.

Just goes to show you can turn a nightmare into something fun. I don't think I'll tell the kids in my daycare about Freddy, though – or Dale.