Out Smarted

Tropical island scents engulf the entire room. There are faint sounds of an instrumental band playing from a small CD player in the background. The class is entirely too quiet to consist of students in the third grade. Mrs. Edwards towers before us at the front of the class and gives an announcement letting us know that the “show and tell” section of today is about to begin.

I, with my chunky face and curly hair, am not prepared for this. I’ve always distasted standing before a group of people and addressing them all at once. Their eyes piercing and judging my very soul. I’ve never amounted to anything as an extrovert. When my name is chosen to present on any topic, I become frozen.

I have always cared more for the learning aspects that a public school can offer rather than meeting new people. Grades, GPA, and learning new things were always my inspiration to crawl out of slumber and head to school every day. I wanted to make something of myself when I grew up. I was determined to be accepted into college and study; I knew what that required me to accomplish even as a third-grader. I was usually found at the back of the room writing notes and copying anything I could see on the board. The students in my class were agitated by the time any type of presentation from the teacher was finished. Sometimes I slowed the day down a bit by trying to learn as much as I could in the subject for the day. Daily, I usually had several questions I had asked the teacher. I also required an example of their explanations. I was taught that there were no “ignorant questions”. The only ignorant questions were the ones not asked. Some teachers were more impatient with me than others. No single human is perfect, I understood that as well. Very few teachers didn’t get along with me. The teachers were my friends. I knew each teacher by their first and last name. I did not see a problem with me befriending my teachers until I reached the last few years of elementary school.

As a child that has a passion for learning, I was bullied quite a bit through the whole time I was enrolled in public school. At first, I thought it was nothing more than the students being jealous or treating me differently because I didn’t care much to talk to them. Later, I realized that it was due to me being a little overweight combined with the fact that I was so obsessed with school. My very first painful example of embarrassment came when I had made it into the seventh grade.

Seventh grade in Carroll County Public School systems was still considered elementary school. I attended St. Paul Elementary School in Cana, Virginia. By seventh grade, I already have different teachers for separate subjects. Students would attend four different classes the first semester then when the second semester arrived, we would have another set of four classes. Seventh grade was also the last year at elementary school before we would transition to a different school further away from home. At St. Paul, the seventh-grade students were treated as a senior would be at high school. We had certain privileges that the other grades didn’t have. At the end of the year, the school would also hold a dance specifically and solely for the students ready to move on to middle school. St. Paul also had the seventh-grade vote for individuals to win different trophies at the award assembly, at the end of the year. Students were voting for “best dressed”, “most likely to succeed” or “cutest couple.” I participated in the vote, but it wasn’t a pressing matter in my mind due to me believing I wouldn’t really win anything anyway.

Students, parents, and teachers were poured into a gymnasium encaging every conversation that was ongoing. The echoes were echoed. Loud, unaltered, and obnoxious individuals were covering nearly every square inch of this gym. For a small-town girl, it felt as if every person in the state was attending that award ceremony. I was already anxious because I despised being around that many people at once, let alone the fact that I knew I had worked hard that year and my name would be called before the congregation and I’d have to walk in front of all those people to accept my awards.

The ceremony began and a hush fell across the room like a blanket being laid on a newborn child, relief. Everyone in the crowd was listening as each teacher and staff member gave their little speeches about ‘what a wonderful year’ we’ve all had. Then the principal and teachers began calling names and giving well-earned rewards to the students who had been called down to be appreciated. I made it to the final moments of the ceremony and was resting my brain from all the commotion when the seventh-grade teachers started to call names for the vote on the seventh-grade trophies. I wasn’t bothered or prepared for my name to be on that list because people barely noticed me unless they needed a tutor or to make jokes at me because of my well-earned grades.

“Samantha Semones” I had heard my name called but wasn’t paying attention to what it was for. I was floored. Every individual in that gymnasium turned and looked at me with a sly grin on their face. I immediately felt my blood rushing to my face as if it were trying to hide me from the swarm of eyes facing my direction. I was crimson red by the moment I reached the last step off the bleachers and was approaching the woman who called my name out. I felt like I was going to lose control of my bladder, bowels and emotions right there in front of God and everybody. “Hold it together, Sam. You’ve got this.” I kept telling myself as if I really believed that.

“This is the last award for the seventh-graders and to no surprise at all the only award that every student seemed to be in complete agreement on. The Teacher’s Pet award goes to Samantha Semones.” Mrs. Utt announced.

Suddenly, instead of clapping, the whole gymnasium busted with laughter. Every individual in that very room thought this was the most hilarious joke they had ever heard. My face was so hot and red that my eyes started watering. I quickly started to navigate back toward my seat on the bleachers. I was attempting with every best effort I had to run away from all the laughter and the judgmental eyes. I wished I was invisible at that very moment. If I had been voted anything, I would have expected it to be “most likely to succeed.” I don’t even recall the option for “Teacher’s Pet” being on the ballad. They did say the vote was unanimous, so I believe with every cell in my body that this was a set-up against me. The trophy was a little parrot sitting on a branch and to this day I will never put that “award” any place in my house. It wasn’t the most embarrassing moment in all of my public-school career, but it was indeed the most traumatizing. At such a young age, I was criticized for my obsession to learn and my dedication in finding a career. I’m glad that everyone thought it was so funny because I know I didn’t. To this day I am still terrified of standing in front of crowds. Thank you so much, St. Paul.