paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- recess was canceled When recess was canceled.
I love cold and rainy days because they remind me of the relief I used to feel as a child when recess was canceled. Instead of running and playing with little supervision or structure, we would be forced to play in the gymnasium or read books in the library. It is not that I was a clumsy child or that in any other venue I would have been a geek. Rather, my earliest years of grade school were spent at a school for the children and the very, very rich. My mother�s attempt to sneak me into a school that was near my child care center when I was in kindergarten resulted in my being �kicked out� of public school. My mother�s first choice of schools was not the right school for me, but because I was smart and we were so poor, I got a scholarship. The location was ideal because it was only about a mile away from my child care center where I walked every day after school. We were far poorer than all of the other families at the school and none of the other kids wanted to be my friend. In second grade, we had a class of seven and I was one of two girls in my class. The other second grade class was a bit larger and had four girls. Any girl without a Bonnie Bell lip smacker hanging around your neck, had no reason to hope for acceptance at this school. And of course my mother balked at the price of the lip smacker and the very thought that anyone would need that much chap stick. �What is wrong with their lips that they need such a large thing of chap stick?� she would ask every time I begged her for one, standing in front of the large jar of them at the drugstore beauty counter. I hated recess, because with nothing constructive to do, I was left alone with my unpopularity. In my official life, I have one of those last names that is unfortunate for children. Adults, with much more on their minds, do not necessarily think my last name is anything weird, but children look for relationships between anything related to bodily functions which are typically relegated to the bathroom, unless one is camping, and the names of their least popular peers. Recess was a time of taunting and flaunting. My name could have been fartbush and I would have been teased less. All of the children at this training ground for the owning class hosted wildly ostentatious theme parties. I had never see anything like it. In my experience, birthday parties were something nice that happened on Saturday afternoon. I had a birthday party when I was five which consisted of five friends at a park. We cooked hot dogs, handed out little cloth bags with party favors I had made myself � PaisleyPiper original paperdolls and little poems I had copied out of my A. A. Milne book, When We Were Very Young . Three of my five friends did not speak English very well, but it didn�t seem to matter in the language of play. I remember being shocked when my mother pointed out to me that my friends were all from other countries. I guess that is why I wanted a nose ring, five pony tails, and wore little Chinese slippers. The children at this school had clowns, organized activities and required costumes. Being the only other girl in her class, Brittney�s mother forced her to invite me to her doll party. Being the only other girl in my class, and being from a wealthy family, my mother insisted I attend. When I called to accept the invitation a butler answered the phone and referred to my classmate as �the little miss,� saying �the little miss wishes me to take a message.� I didn�t want to go, but my mother thought this was a coup for my socialization. She made me a new cotton wrap-around dress and we washed by Pooh bear. My mother and her friend dropped me off at the party, but down the block so no one would see that we rattled up in a Thunderbird with feathers hanging from the rearview window. I was a few minutes late and nervously rang the doorbell which sounded with a huge dong echoing throughout the massive, marble entry way. The butler answered the door, �yes miss.� I told him I was there for the doll party, to which he replied �the other misses are on the verandah with their dolls and strollers.� �Strollers? We�re seven. Who plays with strollers?� �Why all of the young misses.� By this time we had reached the verandah. The butler opened the large French doors and my classmate whipped around. As quickly as she could notice me and my Pooh bear, she gasped in horror �get her out of here! This is a doll party. No one can come with out a doll.� Her mother, with a more grownup sense of decency said �Brittney, why don�t you lend her one of your dolls? You have plenty of dolls.� �Oh no. She�s not touching any of my dolls.� I stood there, quite embarrassed, looking at all of the girls with their fussy collector�s dollars, strollers, cases. All of the girls in little velvet party dresses with ribbons in their hair watched me with some young version of hate in their eyes. At the time, I was certain it was hate, although my mother always said �children are not experienced enough to hate.� �She can�t come to my party,� Brittney said. With that pronouncement, there was no further debate. The butler showed me to the kitchen where I sat with the cook and the maid, both of whom felt incredibly sorry for me and gave me all kinds of good stuff to eat and drink. And I entertained them. The butler took one of the bags of party favors that he was handing out to the girls and gave it to me. �You may as well have the favors since you went to the trouble to attend.� About ten minutes before the party was scheduled to end, I left and walked down the block to wait for my mother and her friend. They pulled up all excited about my first entr�e to the world of the �beautiful people� as I would later come to call them somewhat sarcastically. �How was the party?� my mother asked. �It was great,� I answered, �you should see their house. Oh the fine furniture. They had an entry way and I counted two formal parlors on the way back to the verandah, where the party was held. And we got this bag of party favors.� I rattled on and on for about six or seven minutes. �And how was your dress?� �So many of the girls wished they had one too!� But I did have a grin on my face, and my mother had much horror in her heart when I pulled out my party favor Bonnie Bell lip smacker and hung it around my neck. �Don�t eat that. I�m certain it will make you fat,� my mother said. And we laughed. I never did make one friend at that school. Two years later, I transferred to a school where I was completely happy. But every once in a while, on a cold and rainy day, I am overcome with this incredible sense of relief. This relief that I learned to feel at the rich kid�s school when recess was canceled. 8:48 p.m. - 2002-10-24 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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