Elementary school can be a tough place for a chubby kid. There’s the teasing at recess, the lack of boys who want to dance with you at the Spring Fling, and the year that leggings were cool and you decided to wear them, even though they were the most unflattering fashion choice in your life’s history. But from your teachers you should gain support. They are the mature individuals in the building who appreciate your potential, regardless of the girth around your mid-section. They invest in you and teach you, realizing that you are capable of greatness. They make you feel accepted.
Well, at least that’s what they are supposed to do. When I was in the fifth grade, I had a terrible teacher named Mr. A (I won’t disclose his full name, because he is probably reading this right now, since my blog is world-famous).
He was terrible. And I really do mean that. He was sexist, rude, and boring.
He was also addicted to Phys. Ed. Whenever there was a spare moment, he would cart us off to the gym and he would make us run like a herd of cattle. The worst of his “games” was a little relay race he liked to call Elimination Sprints. We would all line up at one end of the gym, and when he blew his whistle we would all have to run to the other end of the gymnasium and back. The first person back got to sit out. Then the remaining students would run the laps again. Out of that heat, the first kid back would get to sit down. And so it went, until you were down to the two slowest kids: the chubby girl and the weird guy who ran like a bow-legged duck.
In case you were wondering, I WAS THE CHUBBY GIRL.
It was humiliating.
I would be so exhausted from running 40 laps in front of my peers, but I would have to keep going. I grew to despise gym class and loathe Mr. A with a fierce passion.
I managed to survive grade five with minimal emotional scars. But whenever I drive past a school yard and see a chubby kid trying to keep up with her classmates, my heart breaks a little.
4 Comments
I was that chubby kid too. Never fun, although I never had to do elimanation sprints. And being a future teacher, I will erase that from the memory banks and not use it!!!
Hey – I was on crutches once, and a kid told me it was because I was too heave to carry my own weight.
That was a mood lifter.
I remember Mr. A!! I remember he always used to wear that Don Cherry shirt.
It is hard to imagine that was over ten years ago…I am getting old…
I may not have been the chubby kid, but I was not the most athletic. I definately experienced the “being picked last” syndrome. Kids can be so mean.
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