I adored my seventh grade teacher at Pacific Union College Elementary School. She was beautiful and fun and kind.
She tried to help me come out of my shell by offering me a big role in the Christmas class play. For some self-destructive reason, I intentionally mumbled my lines and ended up with a non-speaking part as a shepherd.
I loved my teacher and loved for her to touch me but whenever she did, I shivered and pulled away. “Oh, that’s right,” she eventually said. “You hate to be touched.”
I didn’t, I just didn’t know how to react to getting what I wanted most.
I was a confused kid and a couple of times after class, I told her to “shut up.”
Finally, she pulled me aside and suggested I might prefer home schooling.
I hated that idea and put my behavior in line and finished off seventh and eighth grade with my class.
I have a perverse streak in the way I relate to people but I also have the ability to pull myself into line when my well-being is endangered.