Blog 4

Grade six was one of the worst years of my school career.

I woke up early for the first day of school. As soon as my teeth were brushed I put on my awesome blue sweatsuit. I couldn't wait to show off my new clothes. I wondered how many friends I would have at the new school. I had seen tetherball poles, we didn't have those at my old school. I was excited to try them out at recess. My mom drove up to the school. I gave her a quick kiss and was off to start a new year.

When I walked into the classroom the teacher immediately told us to pair up. We were about to play a "break the ice" game. I paired up with a pretty blonde girl. We were told to find several things we had in common and then one of us would share our findings with the class. One of the things we had in common was that we were both girls. When it was our turn to share, my partner piped, "she's a girl! Really, it's a girl!" I could feel my face burn with embarrassment as the kids stared at me as if I had three heads. Well, at least everyone would remember my name.

The next period was french. All new classmates - I can make friends in this class . When I raised my hand as the teacher called out my extremely feminine name, everyone stared. Even the teacher was surprised, "you're a girl?" To this day I'm not sure if she meant for that to be aloud because she turned as red as I did when I answered, "oui, je suis une fille." Again, I felt like a freak of nature as everyone glared at me.

Gym class was the worst. When I entered the girls changeroom, several girls squealed and covered themselves. Luckily, there was a girl from my first period class who was happy to inform them, "it's a girl!" I walked through the changeroom quickly without changing (or crying) and sat in the gym waiting for the other girls. When they emerged from the changeroom they were giggling and staring and giggling and staring as they sat as far away from me as possible.

By lunch, I didn't care that I had on an awesome sweatshirt or that there were tetherball poles in the yard. I sat alone in the concourse trying not to look up as I ate my lunch in silence . . .