Unfortunately, my mother convinced me somehow that I was a "big girl" now and needed to return to school--that it would get better with time. I didn't believe that for a second, but I did like my teacher because she was the only person who was nice to me. Well...almost nice anyway. She wouldn't let me play Dodge ball because it was too rough and I might get hurt. Like I hadn't ever fallen down before? Taking tumbles was so much a part of my life! But she would allow me to play "Hopscotch" or "Jacks" or even better--help her in the classroom. I liked that last option the best because then I wouldn't have to try to make friends; but I soon realized that along with helping her came the phrase "Teacher's Pet." I wanted no part of that...so "Jacks" it became.
Winter was coming and the colder it grew, the more miserable I became. Mrs. Davis, our neighbor, would usually give me a ride to and from school, but there were days when I had to walk the four "long" blocks home. Trudging through the snow one afternoon, I noticed that some of the kids were taking a shortcut, so I decided to follow them. Within minutes, I found myself in front of this small wooden building that I had never seen before. Going inside to warm up, I found much more than I expected. This was "The Good News Club" which I immediately joined.
I knew that I was going to be in trouble because I was late getting home from school that afternoon; but as I burst through the door, I yelled, "Mom! I found God today. I joined the Club. Is it okay?" as I handed her the information she needed. How could she possibly be upset with me? Of course, she couldn't and shared in my excitement. I had been attending Sunday School since I could remember, but this was different because my classmates were there, and now I could have lots of friends. I wanted so badly to have new friends, but being "different" wasn't making it easy for me.
Along with the excruciating cold winter came one HUGE problem! Make that TWO huge problems! The metal of the braces against my skin made me so cold that I could barely stand it. Girls were not allowed to wear long pants to school, but after complaining for an eternity to my mother, she finally made her first trip to the Principal's office. Remember her mission for me to be "normal" meant that I should receive no special attention. But this was "different;" and the Principal agreed wholeheartedly that I should be allowed to wear pants, but they had to be removed once I reached school. Problem solved!
The second problem required help from my dad. So one evening after dinner, I approached him..."Dad, please, please, could you give me a can of oil?" He just stared at me and smiled, "What? What are you talking about?" He's really smart, so why doesn't he understand? "Dad, I SQUEAK! and the colder it gets, the louder I SQUEAK! I need some oil for school because everyone can hear me walking down the hall." How dare he laugh at me; but the next day as I opened my lunch sack, alongside my sandwich, apple, and cookies was a small can of oil to keep in my desk. Problem solved! Love you, Dad! You're the BEST!
To be continued...
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