It was time to start school again in September. It took me days and days to prepare for that first day in a new school in a new country with new people and hopefully new friends. My mother made sure I had everything necessary to survive the day - a pencil, notebooks, a binder, pretzels, a 2-pound sandwich, milk, juice, crackers, silverware, and of course some home-cooked goulash with mashed potatoes made from scratch instead of powder. My backpack consisted mainly of food since my mother had discovered the unhealthy eating habits of the indigenous American people and did not want me going anywhere near the cafeteria food of the school.
The goulash in my lunchbox could be smelled a mile away, of course, but as the children around me made faces, frowned, and pinched their noses, I knew it wasn't my home-cooked meal causing their nasal distress. It couldn't be! Or could it...?
I quickly learned that I could gain friends and trust from the children around me simply by feeding them pretzels. During my fat teacher's lecture about grammar I got hungry and pulled out my bag of pretzels which my mom had so thoughtfully packed for me. I slowly crunched away at my salty snack and suddenly my little classmates started facing me and finally speaking to me! "Can I have some?" Fortunately my mother packed enough pretzels for like 5 kids, so I had enough to share with my new fans. Until my fat teacher realized what was going on and decided to bring it to an end. She scolded me in front of the whole classroom and made me look like an ass in front of everyone. I have not forgiven her for it to this day. She asked me why I was giving my snack away to others and whether or not I had enough for the whole class. I didn't have enough and she knew it as well as I did. When I plead guilty to not bringing pretzels for the whole class, my fat teacher told me I should not give any to anyone if I don't have enough for everyone. She then made all my freshly made friends return the pretzels they had taken. As I watched all the sour faces bringing their sweaty little hands to my desk and dropping the partially-melted pretzels back into the ziplock bag, I could feel the tears building up in my eyes and slowly trickling down my cheek. The pretzel I had previously placed in my mouth was now drying in my throat and leaving me breathless. Not only had I lost the friends I had just acquired a few minutes ago, but I was also publicly humiliated by the woman who would be teaching me for the next 9 months. At the next recess I managed to regain my friends when they saw me taking out my bag of crackers.
After our short break, we came back to my fat teacher's class. We were instructed to fill out short questionnaires about ourselves, trade our answers with someone else in the class, and then in front of the whole classroom we were to introduce our partner by reading his or her answers out loud. My partner was Tanya. She was a very nice girl but like most children at that age - rotten and evil. Tanya thought my answers were just hilarious! But when I tried to snatch my paper from her to change my answers, she wouldn't let me. So as I sat there listening to the other students' answers, I was preparing myself for the worst. All the children in my class seemed to like pizza, spaghetti, and burgers, while my favorite food was soup! I had soup every night for dinner, and a meal was not complete without soup as an appetizer to warm the tummy. As we stood in front of the classroom and Tanya began introducing me, my knees trembled and I shook all over. Not only did she pronounce my name wrong, but everyone else thought it was hilarious that I had such a stupid name. They laughed and pointed like most rotten children do when someone is different. But the worst came when she started to tell the class what my favorite food was. And as soon as she said SOUP, the entire classroom shook with laughter. The kids thought it was so funny they decided to nickname me Soup-Girl. The humiliation I felt right then was enough to kill me. My classmates made me feel alone, scared, and embarrassed.
I never had any friends at school after that. I would show up every morning, and leave every afternoon, and during that whole eight hour period I wouldn't speak even once. Everyone avoided me, and even my pretzels and crackers weren't bait for them anymore.
The goulash in my lunchbox could be smelled a mile away, of course, but as the children around me made faces, frowned, and pinched their noses, I knew it wasn't my home-cooked meal causing their nasal distress. It couldn't be! Or could it...?
I quickly learned that I could gain friends and trust from the children around me simply by feeding them pretzels. During my fat teacher's lecture about grammar I got hungry and pulled out my bag of pretzels which my mom had so thoughtfully packed for me. I slowly crunched away at my salty snack and suddenly my little classmates started facing me and finally speaking to me! "Can I have some?" Fortunately my mother packed enough pretzels for like 5 kids, so I had enough to share with my new fans. Until my fat teacher realized what was going on and decided to bring it to an end. She scolded me in front of the whole classroom and made me look like an ass in front of everyone. I have not forgiven her for it to this day. She asked me why I was giving my snack away to others and whether or not I had enough for the whole class. I didn't have enough and she knew it as well as I did. When I plead guilty to not bringing pretzels for the whole class, my fat teacher told me I should not give any to anyone if I don't have enough for everyone. She then made all my freshly made friends return the pretzels they had taken. As I watched all the sour faces bringing their sweaty little hands to my desk and dropping the partially-melted pretzels back into the ziplock bag, I could feel the tears building up in my eyes and slowly trickling down my cheek. The pretzel I had previously placed in my mouth was now drying in my throat and leaving me breathless. Not only had I lost the friends I had just acquired a few minutes ago, but I was also publicly humiliated by the woman who would be teaching me for the next 9 months. At the next recess I managed to regain my friends when they saw me taking out my bag of crackers.
After our short break, we came back to my fat teacher's class. We were instructed to fill out short questionnaires about ourselves, trade our answers with someone else in the class, and then in front of the whole classroom we were to introduce our partner by reading his or her answers out loud. My partner was Tanya. She was a very nice girl but like most children at that age - rotten and evil. Tanya thought my answers were just hilarious! But when I tried to snatch my paper from her to change my answers, she wouldn't let me. So as I sat there listening to the other students' answers, I was preparing myself for the worst. All the children in my class seemed to like pizza, spaghetti, and burgers, while my favorite food was soup! I had soup every night for dinner, and a meal was not complete without soup as an appetizer to warm the tummy. As we stood in front of the classroom and Tanya began introducing me, my knees trembled and I shook all over. Not only did she pronounce my name wrong, but everyone else thought it was hilarious that I had such a stupid name. They laughed and pointed like most rotten children do when someone is different. But the worst came when she started to tell the class what my favorite food was. And as soon as she said SOUP, the entire classroom shook with laughter. The kids thought it was so funny they decided to nickname me Soup-Girl. The humiliation I felt right then was enough to kill me. My classmates made me feel alone, scared, and embarrassed.
I never had any friends at school after that. I would show up every morning, and leave every afternoon, and during that whole eight hour period I wouldn't speak even once. Everyone avoided me, and even my pretzels and crackers weren't bait for them anymore.
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