...Today we had Worldly Wise which is a vocab test. I had finished my first part and was on the second when...Connor says "Corey you finished the first part?" I sarcastically answered, "No! I'm just doing this for fun!" Then Connor goes, "Corey, learning isn't going to help you grow." I started crying.
Here's the thing: I know lots of short people who are totally cool with it. But I read this entry, and I still feel sad about it. Since I didn't go through the elementary school trauma of being a geek or overweight or wildly unpopular, I forgot about the tiny daily pains and cruelties.
In my mind, Connor still looks like a motorcycle riding, bad boy, ladies' man (Think Danny in "Grease"). In my head he has tattoos and leather jackets and a bad attitude. Maybe a cigarette. Truthfully, I never saw Connor past the age of twelve, and while at some schools this would be enough time to acquire a leather jacket and cigarette, at my tiny suburban New England town, that just wasn't likely.
I'd love to see a picture of Connor at ten years old when he tormented me with these comments. I'm sure he's adorable. I'd love to see Connor now. I hope he's a veterinarian or social worker or nurse. I'd love to be so terribly wrong about someone.
As for myself? I'm glad I had the gift of sarcasm and knew its irrefutable power at such a young age. I'm even more impressed that I smartly coupled it with the distinct power of little blonde girl tears. A killer combination, and one I am not ashamed to still use when necessary.