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| Photo courtesy of Marjorie D. |
A Story From the Life of Marjorie D.
Ghostwritten by Anna C.
The Power of Words
Looking back on my life there are many difficult situations that have occurred. However these situations have only made me more determined to succeed. There is no better example than the time I thought I would learn to read on the first day of first grade.
The first day of school comes with many emotions; excitement, nerves and anticipation. It was the first day of first grade and I was filled with all of these- excitement mostly. I found myself unable to sleep the night before, thinking about how my mom kept telling me that in first grade I’d learn to read. Reading wasn’t the only thing keeping me up- it was a new school and I didn’t know what to expect. Would I be able to find my seat? What if I couldn’t find the bathroom or didn’t know when to leave class?
The next day, I walked from my house 10 minutes away up to St. Margaret Mary’s in my skirt and blouse with the thick leggings underneath. I was anxious to see who would be at school and in my class. When I reached the building I took it all in. From the brick that made the strong skeleton, to the gas lights hanging over the doors that could break at any moment. I walked up the stairs through the french doors and look for my classroom. When I found my classroom my teacher, Sister Catherine Elizabeth, greeted me. She wore a habit and only her face was visible and gave me a look through her wired glasses that made me hurry quickly past her. I found a seat within one of the large rows of wooden desks that were bolted in the floor. I opened the top of the desk and put my silver lunchbox into it. I sat at my desk for a while waiting for the other kids to come. When everyone was seated she started talking. She was staring at us through her wire rim glasses and told us the rules of her class and what to expect for the year.
“There are a few rules I’d like to go over” she said. “ First no chewing gum in class. Second no talking while I’m talking and lastly please raise your hand when you want to speak.” As I listened to Sister Catherine I grew more at ease. At first sight I was scared but she was actually a very nice teacher.
“This year you will learn to get a basic understanding of reading and writing” she continued. I got so excited and thought this is when we would start to learn. Then sitting in that hard chair that isolated me from the other kids, that bolted me to the wooden floors, I remembered all those newspapers being delivered to my house everyday, that I would try to read. And I sat there remembering all those trips I took with my grandpa to his appointments as a minister. When he was waiting to go in or in between his appointments he would grab the book in his car. That book made him laugh in delight and gasp in shock. I wanted to be able to feel that from those little letters that alone did nothing… but combined did everything. This was my chance to be like my family and read and feel that sensation.
All the sudden, as I stared at the magnified eyes of Sister Catherine, her mouth said the worst thing ever. She was walking around the class but to me this was not news you could say walking around. This to me was not light or funny. But yet she still could do it, her lips formed the words that to my five year old ears were like death. Sister Catherine stared right at me and said, “You will be given a reader in a few days that will help you learn to get the basic skills.”
I was shocked.
I couldn’t believe it.
She had just said a few days.
How could I look at the mailman knowing he brought something I couldn’t decipher? How could I face the newspaper that mocked me and reminded me of something I couldn’t do? Above all how could I go home to my family and tell them I still couldn’t do something they did so well. I looked around to see if maybe there were books everyone could read and maybe the readers were more personalized. Hoping she was joking and I could get a crumb of that sensation I’d seen everyone in my family have. There weren’t. All I saw was a blackboard across the entire wall with the alphabet above it, mocking me.
After that Sister Catherine showed us the restrooms and the auditorium where we ate. All through that time I was wondering how the other kids could concentrate. How could they go on about their day when they knew how long it’d be until we learned to read? At lunch I got out my big worker’s lunch box and took my thermos out of the top. I peered in the can and I saw chicken noodle soup. I took a bite of the soup and realized it had cooled during the day, even though it was cold it still tasted good to me. I kept eating my soup, bit by bit. It’s okay Sister Catherine said you’ll learn to read in a few days. But I want to learn now! No really it’s ok. No it’s not! I went through the whole lunch period like that. Arguing with myself.
When lunch was over we went back to the classroom and Sister Catherine was at her desk. Throughout the day Sister Catherine talked but all I thought about was what I was gonna say when I got home. I’m sure it will be fine. Mom and dad won’t think anything of it I assured myself.
When the sweet sound of the bell signaled the end of my misery I went home and told my mom that I hadn’t learned how to read. She looked at me and could see the sadness within me, and with gentle eyes she said “ Don’t worry honey you’ll learn someday.” I went to bed that night with renewed hope. Knowing that I would learn to read eventually made me excited. So if I had to wait a few days to figure it out I would. I wanted the key to unlock that world that my grandpa and parents knew so well. That only fueled my desire to be a great reader and start to learn as soon as I could. I’d get there someday… and I did.
