MEDIOCRE
My mother and I came to this country with nothing. We lived in a five-bedroom house with seven other people. She worked two jobs, at the flea market, and the other at Jack n’ Box. On top of that she went to school part time. I guess it’s safe to say we were poor back then. My days consisted of going to the local elementary school, and coming home. At home I would busy myself with useless television. Funny how My little Ponies, The Snorkels, and Urika’s Castle could entertain for hours. I would time all my TV shows, so by the time when Ren and Stimpy credits roll by I would hear the jiggle of the lock and keys. And she’d be home. At six years old I lived for that moment.
In school it was all a blur. The meaningless recital of the alphabet and 2+2 equaling four. The worst days were Mondays. Every week this day my teacher Miss Jordan would herd us into a circle, of which we were to talk about our weekend. I never “Got it” as a child. Why should I parade my boring self to this crowd? Billy was always first. He would speak of tales about his family trips to the aquarium, to the park, to discovery zone. Next was Suzy and her amazing dog that she would spend hours playing fetch with. Then Sarah with camping, Sean with helping his mother bake cookies and then it was my turn. My tales extended as far as the Mc Donald’s play place, beating 3 levels in Kid Ickaris or what I watched on TV that Saturday. Billy then raises his hand. “Miss Jordan, I thought we were suppose to say fun things” then more whispering and snickering. Humiliation at six years old, shrunk into the floor. I could feel my cheeks burning and my tears sting my eyes. Miss Jordan quickly calls for the next student.
The week rolled on then the weekend came. Blissful and serene, a little lonely, but no worries, I had the power rangers and Bobby’s world to keep me company. If they weren’t on I had my Nintendo to keep my company. Dreadfully the weekend passes and I was back in school on a Monday worst of all. As I sat thought the endless parade of deafening happiness my mind began to wonder. I drifted into a daydream. My mom and I are at the park, and there’s a big yellow dog and watermelons. We’d play Frisbee then she’d push me on the swings and we would laugh. We would then pack up our watermelons and go home to make dinner and cookies.
“Its your turn Freeda” Miss Jordan says cutting through my daydream, “Do you want to pass?”
“Pass?”
“Yes, you know, skip your turn, let the other student talk”
I was silent and slowly I shook my head. “No I want to talk”. That’s when I spoke about my daydream, my tale about the watermelons, big yellow dog, swings, and baking. I said it all. And I beamed a smile, this time I’m not boring. The circle rolled on and my moment in the spotlight ended quickly and it was John’s turn.
At the end of the school that day Miss Jordan pulled me to the side. She smiled then hugged me. “You should always be yourself, don’t be ashamed of who you are”.
“But Miss Jordan, I’m boring”.
“Your classmates will like you regardless if you save the world, or watch TV, you had friends before when all you did was watch TV right?”
I nodded slowly. She never told my mom about my tall tales of parks, yellow dogs and watermelons. It’s crazy how such mediocre things could mean the world to a six year old. These days after 15 years, backpacking through Soeul Korea, and Scuba Diving I still find myself finishing off the night with Sex and the City, Dave Chappell, and a little bit of XBOX. Right before I go to bed I put my dog on he pillow, and my Boyfriend turns off the light and says goodnight. It’s crazy how mediocre things mean so much to a 20 year old.