a young girl in school…
I donโt like school anymore.
I used to.
But not anymore.
Sister Margaret says Iโm a trouble-making nonconformist. My mom says Iโm just left-handed. Sister Margaret swats my hand whenever she catches me switching my pencil back to my left hand. I draw pictures of Sister Margaret getting shot out of a canon. Then I draw Xโs on her eyes, but then I get creative and make them into swastikas.
I honestly donโt mean to be a troublemaker. Maybe itโs just that my pencil wants to be in my left hand instead of my right. Sister Margaret can stuff it! I think God made me this way for a reason. I canโt just change because Sister Margaret says so. But her ruler is a little more convincing. If Iโm gonna write with my right hand then God Himself is gonna have to tell me.
I use a red crayon to portray the blood coming out of Sister Margaretโs head wounds.
Sister Margaret says I had better shape up. She says Iโm the only one in the class who writes with my left hand. She says she doesnโt like to look up and see all of the other good little children writing in perfect unison with their rights only to have her lovely ballet of scratching right pencils disrupted by the chaotic scribblings of a rebellious spirit. She says.
She also isnโt fond of my doodles.
Maybe I like being different. Maybe itโs good that we donโt all do the same thingโฆbut I would feel a little more comfortable if at least one other kid would write with their left. I look around the room. Maria, Susie, Amy, Kiersten, Christin, Khristin, Christina, the other Amy, Alicia, Mayukoโฆtheyโre all writing with their right hands. I know theyโre not looking at me now. They always turn and look when Sister Margaret scolds me.
Theyโre just looking at their papers and writing. They canโt see me.
They donโt care.
But what if they do notice my lefty writing? What if they donโt like it? What if they wouldnโt be my friend? Up until now no one has said anything. How much longer will it last? High school? College? Oh no!—what comes after college?!
โCalm down. Itโs no big deal. You wonโt lose friends over a silly thing like this.โ
Thanks, Mortimer, my imaginary friendโฆwho is also a walrus. Youโre right. Itโs no big dealโฆbut then, if it really is no big dealโฆ
…..
I see now the error of my ways. Everything is fine and as it should be. I writeโฆright. Nobody swats my hand with a ruler. Nobody judges me. And, according to Sister Maragaret, Baby Jesus doesnโt weep over my stenographic ineptitude anymore. Everything is normal. Nobody notices.
Sister Margaret doesnโt scold me anymore. Sister Margaret doesnโt even look at me anymore.
Sister Margaretโs perfect right-handed writing ballet is all in order.
I blend in.
I am normal.
Nobody can see me.
Beep beep boop beep.
J. Burrello
The Big Insane Happy 