He stood before me a thin,towering be-speckled man in a tweed jacket. A little wisp of reddish blond facial hair under his nose. I sat at my desk just to the right of him in the front row, paying attention. He was making an announcement to my grade 4 1962 class about our new playground’s obstacle course apparatus, and was suggesting that the girls wear shorts under their dresses if they want to play on it.

When he said that, I thought that I should show him I was already ahead of him concerning this; his practical suggestion, something I and my girlfriends already figured out having played on it all week.

I gently tugged at the hem of his jacket and he looked down at me, then noticed that I had turned a tiny bit of the hem of my skirt up to show I had shorts on in preparation of the obstacle course. Shorts that came down to my mid thigh.

He quickly turned his attention back to the class and resumed talking.
The next thing I knew I was sent to the Office where Vera the principal questioned me on why I lifted my skirt to the teacher. I didn’t speak- I was speechless with embarrassment, I felt sick.

The principal was very kind I must admit. She talked gently to me and let me rest in the nurses room on the cot (all schools had them back then). She eventually called my mom when I wouldn’t respond with anything other than I didn’t feel well and want to go home.

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Recovering Creative

I live on a tiny island on the Canadian west coast with about 300 of my neighbours. I am a Red Seal chef and certified baker (retired), an artist, an amateur photographer. I write, (unpublished so hesitate to call myself A Writer) sing, and can bang out some reasonable sounding chords on a guitar. And I grow a veggie garden. Older, wiser, and armed with insights and experience, I am on a conscience pursuit of reclaiming my creative life. I see it as a career change. Next level.

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