Ok. I got duct tape on my mouth in the thumbnail, but we're not gonna be using that 'cause that looks kinky. CLICKBAIT!!! Instead, middle-school-me is going to be wearing a bandana to represent limited speech. Now imagine seeing this out of context. You'd think I was either 1: Wearing a diaper on my face, 2: Trying to rob a bank, Or 3: joined your friendly neighborhood gang. Crip, crip, crip. *gunshots* Anyways,
towards the end of high school, You know how most college application essays require you to answer the question: "What was the most significant change in your life?" Or: "What was your biggest obstacle, and how did you overcome it?" And here is the answer in short. Puberty. Well if you wanna be a smartass and get rejected from all the colleges you applied to, there's your answer. But from what I remember, everybody I know, including their moms, Wrote down the same exact thing. "I used to be a quiet kid but now I'm not." Real special, kid Those college admission officers are done reading the same cookie cutter bull**** over and over again. Now hol' up! I'm not trying to downplay anyone's struggle right now, but I'm just saying a bunch of us went through that same quiet phase ourselves. And ya girl was one of these kids. Not exaggerating when I say I was mute to the point that nobody in my school, including my teachers, knew my voice. 'Cause I said NADA! I know this ain't a contest or anything to brag about but this for sure one of my biggest regrets in life. "But how did you get through three years without talking in school? Whaaat?" - Right? Crazy! You tell me I was gonna do YouTube back then and I would have thought... "First of all, I don't trust anyone with vampire-lookin' hands. And second... Das some bull**** right there. Like really even 'starving artist' would've been more believable." Years later... Here we are. So, as soon as middle school started, I don't know what in fuck's name came over my brain to come up with a thought as rational as: - "Hey-ey-ey!" "Ok, ok. Cool. Nice. I got your attention, listen! I have this grade-A idea. Why don't we just get through middle school without talking at all? Make it clear to everyone that you hate them-- I mean... Have your own personal space. It's pure genius!" - "Yeet! We yolo-ing up in this b****!" - "Yeah, ok. Settle down. Now get out there and stay quiet for three years. Ya' bozo!" No, of course it wasn't that simple. The actual reason I was so reserved was because... Well, let's just say there were some things going on back at home. But I'll spare you the details. All I wanna say is that my house hold back then rarely allowed open discussions. And if you close to trying, you might have gotten glass thrown your way. These events influenced my mindset enough to affect the way I interacted with everyone outside of home. But nothing to worry about, since things are a lot more peaceful nowadays. On the first day of sixth grade and on forth, I had nothing to say. Zero words to bring to the table and no interest EVER in raising my hand. By the end of the first week, the kids in my class gave me some cool nicknames. The Quiet One. The Mute Kid. She might be a *cereal* killer. Never smiles And.. Who? But those tags stuck onto me for the whole 3 years.. And it became real once I accepted those labels for myself. And for that reason, I basically went through middle school as a mime. "MR. MIME!" *music* Middle School and High School are the most memorable years of your life. They said. Middle School is gonna be so much fun! They said. High School are the golden years of your life! SHUT UP! Clearly whoever THEY is is a person of betrayal and lies... 'Course, without talking, there isn't really an opening for you to make any friends in the first place. There was also never really anything to look forward to in school, besides doodling in class for six hours a day. So what the hell were you graded for, then? Presentations? NAH! Participation? Wuzz that? Taking turns for reading? HALH NO! But if you had any tasks, that didn't require talking, I was your go-to person. Like don't be coming to me if you needed any verbal answers. - "Psst, hey, if you're going 80 miles per hour, how long does it take to go 80 miles?" [MUSIC] -[Really?] -"Hey, can I borrow a pencil?" - [Alley-oop.] AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH - "Hey, uhhh, 'Tables,' right?" "I saw your drawings and thought it'd be cool if you could draw my face with Hulk's body." - *Nod* *drawing intensifies* - "Hey, that doesn't look like me at all!" - [50 bucks.] -"Ah!" "Dang it... I could've swore I would've gotten a reaction out of that." - [Fuckin' carrot top-lookin' bitch.] There was one teacher I had in particular. We'll call her "Mrs. Realest," cuz she was the realest out there. Like you could tell she actually put in her best efforts to help students individually, but with tough, brolic, macho love. Thing is, in her class, you had to do a lot of presentations. And that just did NOT sit well for me and a whole lot of other students. I remember her VIVIDLY saying on the first day of school: - "Okay! Hi, class. My name is 'Mrs. Realest,' and let me make this clear right now." "You won't survive in this class if you're one of the quiet ones," "because 50% of your grade will count on" pARtiCIPatiON "And if you get by the whole year without talking, you're dead wrong." "I will personally make sure that.." "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!" - [oH MY gOD. How you gonna say the deadliest things in the nicest voice?] [This lady needs to chill.] It wasn't long before she sniped all the quiets students down by the first few weeks. She told me and a few other students to start coming to the mandatory 7am class to read aloud together (various overlapping complaints) Even when we were practiclly forced to come to this early morning class, I still felt too stubborn to talk. But hey! At least the stories were interesting to listen to. This went on for a few months. But there was a day when I walked into class, and happened to be the only student who showed up. I almost hoped class was canceled that time, but I guess all the students were sick or didn't feel like coming in the rainy weather. Mrs. Realest had this look on her face that said: Hello.... I've been expecting you! [CREEPY MUSIC] [Well Miss, it's been real nice seeing you today but I guess I got ligma or whatever is in nowadays, so...] [I'mma bounce. Buh-bye.] Tabbes you get back here right this instant. She sat me down and tried having an one-on-one with me. Went on persuading me a few times to read aloud, but we ended up silent reading instead. 15 Minutes pass by and something else goes down. She suddenly run up to the trash can and started... puking? Know what would be nice? Reading in peace and silence. In all seriousness, I didn't know what to do in that situation. She must have ate something this morning that upset her stomach. Tabbes, there is a teacher present at the end of the hallway *puking sounds* Call them for help. I walked into the hall feeling hesitant. Then into the clasroom. Hi, do you need something? So what do you need? A stapler? A calculator? What is it? *SILENCE* Well, obviously you came here for something but you need to tell me what it is first. My teacher was out here dying and here I was, playing Charades with this lady. I grabbed her hand and dragged her to my classroom She saw Mrs. Realest leaning on the garbage can and called for help after that. She went home later that day and my homeroom class walked in later like: "Yo, she ain't here. Let's dip to Arby's" *Various positive answers* - But I like halal better. - Nobody cares what you like, Johny! The next day, she pulled me out of the classroom with this unsettling look on her face that said: "Shit is about to go down!" We had THE talk because I apparently got snitched on "Tabbes, what if I died then and there? Would you still have been quiet? I don't know what's been holding you back up until now," "But how far you're willing to go with this, can't help you in any way." "I'm gonna make this very clear to you right now. You may be able to graduate middle school because it's all easy with the crayolas and macaroni art..." [Miss, I think that was Preschool.] "You're not gonna get past High school if you keep this up. In the real world, you need communications skills." "Not just because it's convenient, but for every situation you have to interact with people, and in case" "Something like this happens again." And that was my BOOM moment right there. Would I really have said nothing if I saw someone dying in front of me? Back then I might have. But I still would have tried doing something about it. Having a thick skull is some complicated shit. I had another teacher for band. We'll call him Mr. Hot Shot, cuz he was the one everyone liked and got along with. Well at least I thought he was. Being the quiet one, he appreciated the fact that I went ham everytime I played that Oboe. One day, I guess curiosity got the best of him because he decided to pull me out into the hallway alone. - "Talk to me, what's wrong?" - [I would like to go back to my seat.] He repeated his question a few times over and over until he had this: "I ain't playing these games" look on his face. And said in an angry tone "You're gonna get a zero for today if you don't talk." "- It's now or never!" [Whaaat? Ok, sir.] [We can talk about this. Actually no we can't. Where this come from anyways?] [So you pull me out here, without explaining why you suddenly want me to talk.] [And give me a zero? Just like that?] He gave me two minutes to follow his demands which brought even more pressure if anything. My lips stayed sealed. "Ok, fine. You'll get the zero. Talk to me, when you wanna change that." And he just left me out in the hallway for the rest of the class. Which was cool, I guess. I went home that day wondering what just went down. You know that messed up gut feeling of disappointing someone you looked up to? Well that got me thinking irrationally for the rest of the year. He started ignoring me after that point so I legit thought he hated me. He was also probably trynna push me out of my comfort zone using brute force. But using my grades to threaten me? Not cool! Later into the year, there was a backwards progression, because guidance counselors were now pulling me into their office every other week. "Hello Tabbes, I've been hearing a lot about you from your teacher nowadays." [You make that sound like a good thing.] "It's nice to finally meet you." "Haha! Psych!" "Too slow." [Oh, it's gon' be like that, huh?] "Your teachers told me they're concerned about you and your performance in class." "They're doing the best to help you pass, but you need to do your part as well. If there is any reason you're holding back, please let me know." "I'd really love to help you out." [Mmm. Free of charge?] "- Tell me, are you just a shy person?" [I might be.] "- How long have you been quiet for?" [I'd say about three years.] "- Why are you like this?" [What a bold question.] "- Something going on at home?" "Okay, I'm gonna talk to your parents. You may go back to class." There were a lot of days I would go back home, but wonder where I went wrong. I had to figure out sometime or another when I was gonna let go of this dumb phase. It was at the start of high school, when I began to slowly stabilize myself. People might be asking: "Were you bullied for this?" No. Surprisingly. You think I would be for being that one shady weird kid in the back of the class. But my classmates were chill. They picked me first for gym teams, for other reasons... Asked for help with music reading and corrections. Came to me with art requests, and they figured: "Oh, she a'ight!" Furthermore, the kids in my grade voted for me as the most athletic in the yearbook. For whatever reason... Which was strange but also something to appreciate since I always thought these things were supposed to be a popularity contest. And a final cliché statement. People change.... A LOT. And in contrast, I know others that hardly did. And it all comes down to how much you want to change. If you want to stay in this little bubble of yours, wondering why you're such a freaky-deaky, Then voilà! Nothing's gonna happen. If you happen to be one of these kids, stuck in the same spot I was in, let me give you some real advice right now. Pretend everybody's naked and you'll be fine. Wrong situation. You're not defined by any labels until you accept it yourself. Whatever people choose to name you as, don't take it as your own unless you agree with it. Nobody's gonna know you better than your own self. Except some delusional people. Always gonna be some out there.
Ooof
you arent wrong