i was recently found by an elementary schoolmate on facebook. she happened to post a scan of our 4th grade class photo to her profile pictures last night. not only did i immediately zero in on my 9-year-old self (looking more like 7, really), but on another person. Annie Fogg was maligned by most of the kids in 4th grade, and certainly by many in Mrs. Johnson's class.
Annie's nails were bitten to the quick. Her short, stubby pencils (when she actually had a pencil, it was always a short cast-off) bore teeth marks. She smelled vaguely of urine and unwashed laundry. She was teased mercilessly. Annie was not, from what i remember, a good student.
Our school, like many, had a yearly event generically called "Field Day." Princeton Elementary's school colours were blue and gold, so we were divided up into teams. i believe i was on the blue team (if this is true, i would have been thrilled by my luck at the time--i hated "gold," which i knew was just a glorified yellow).
Annie and i were facing off for the 5-yard dash challenge. My team loudly and rudely encouraged me to leave her in a cloud of dust. Responding to that crowd mentality, that cruelty so often attributed to children, i remember scoffing "she's nothing to beat!"
unbeknownst to me, the gun had gone off while i was trash talking, and by the time i started running, Annie was half done with the dash. i lost shamefully to her.
i think about this several times a year. Not the losing, but how much was at stake for her in that race.
i do not remember myself as a mean child. but i remember being disgusted by Annie, by her smell, by her fingernails... i do not remember being proactively unkind, as a rule.
Annie was prone to getting into fights with boys (she had a brother, i recall, so maybe that felt normal to her) and was disruptive in class. i do remember feeling that because of these things, she brought her treatment onto herself. i felt that she could help it and chose not to. sometimes i felt bad for her. at other times, i thought she should simply change.
it occurs to me now that whether what i said aloud on that "Field Day" was anomalous or not, Annie surely felt my judgment, the silent cringing i did. and that is my shame and my share in this.
Looking at that class picture now, i remember something--if only a vague sense--about every kid in it. and we all look so small. Some of us look optimistic, expecting good things. Some of us appear to be bracing for the worst. Annie's chin is drawn tightly inward, as though someone said something hurtful to her right before the flash immortalized her this way.
i guess what i'm trying to say to anyone who's reading this, to Annie, really, is that i hope she lived past that year (those years?), and that maybe if/when she ever looks at that photo of all of us, that she is forgiving, or remembers it as something only vaguely unpleasant. i hope her life changed.
Annie's nails were bitten to the quick. Her short, stubby pencils (when she actually had a pencil, it was always a short cast-off) bore teeth marks. She smelled vaguely of urine and unwashed laundry. She was teased mercilessly. Annie was not, from what i remember, a good student.
Our school, like many, had a yearly event generically called "Field Day." Princeton Elementary's school colours were blue and gold, so we were divided up into teams. i believe i was on the blue team (if this is true, i would have been thrilled by my luck at the time--i hated "gold," which i knew was just a glorified yellow).
Annie and i were facing off for the 5-yard dash challenge. My team loudly and rudely encouraged me to leave her in a cloud of dust. Responding to that crowd mentality, that cruelty so often attributed to children, i remember scoffing "she's nothing to beat!"
unbeknownst to me, the gun had gone off while i was trash talking, and by the time i started running, Annie was half done with the dash. i lost shamefully to her.
i think about this several times a year. Not the losing, but how much was at stake for her in that race.
i do not remember myself as a mean child. but i remember being disgusted by Annie, by her smell, by her fingernails... i do not remember being proactively unkind, as a rule.
Annie was prone to getting into fights with boys (she had a brother, i recall, so maybe that felt normal to her) and was disruptive in class. i do remember feeling that because of these things, she brought her treatment onto herself. i felt that she could help it and chose not to. sometimes i felt bad for her. at other times, i thought she should simply change.
it occurs to me now that whether what i said aloud on that "Field Day" was anomalous or not, Annie surely felt my judgment, the silent cringing i did. and that is my shame and my share in this.
Looking at that class picture now, i remember something--if only a vague sense--about every kid in it. and we all look so small. Some of us look optimistic, expecting good things. Some of us appear to be bracing for the worst. Annie's chin is drawn tightly inward, as though someone said something hurtful to her right before the flash immortalized her this way.
i guess what i'm trying to say to anyone who's reading this, to Annie, really, is that i hope she lived past that year (those years?), and that maybe if/when she ever looks at that photo of all of us, that she is forgiving, or remembers it as something only vaguely unpleasant. i hope her life changed.
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