The Uncool Kids
Today’s blog post is some writing from a couple of years ago. When I fired up my copy of Scrivener to create a new blogging notebook, this book I’d started writing when I was taking an online class in 2016 popped up. I’ll be sharing bits from it now and then.
By the time my brother could toddle along after our neighborhood cluster, I was in school. The neighbors - girl twins and their brother, all older than me, spent more time with friends from school and less playing with us. The boy from three doors down moved away with his family, out to the country. My social world moved away from our street and out into school.
And it was at school where I learned the Rules. Be cool. Be popular. Be athletic. My very first day of physical education ever, as a tiny kindergartener, I sat myself down in the exact middle of the gym, in the circle that made up center court, and burst into tears. I was the opposite of cool and popular and athletic. I sat on the swing at recess, with my other uncool friends - the girl who hadn’t lost her baby fat, the new kid, the ones with allergies and asthma who couldn’t run fast - wishing on every star in the heavens that the Cool Kids would just go away and play a game somewhere that didn’t involve picking on us. I never wanted to be one of them - I wanted them to leave us alone.
How to play along
Because safety is a core value for me, I am asking that comments in this space avoid all the ugly things: shame, blame, judgement. I am asking that disagreement and discussion be polite, respectful, generous, and open to vulnerability.
Because community is healthy behavior, I welcome you to comment, to share your thoughts and responses and discuss this with empathy with me and with each other.