scattered

yesterday there was a shooting; the biggest massacre in our country's history. (at least by the standards of school shootings--i am reasonably sure that other massacres have happened, undocumented and off of school grounds, perhaps even prior to the founding fathers setting foot on north american soil.)

it's something that catches people off guard. and well it should; i would hate to be so numb to these things that i didn't care. part of me is reminded of columbine; it's that time of year, so on and so forth. part of me is reminded of corey; today is the day he passed. and part of me is reminded of my own youth, spent hating school.

yes, hating. i hated school--grade school and high school, to a lesser degree. i hated it because i was one of the kids who was always bullied and teased. it bit.

i continually find it of interest the way that kids group together; is it some leftover herding instinct? like finds like, and blends in? who knows. there is inevitably a group of children in any yard at recess who are the cast-offs: for whatever reason available, the other children cut them off, don't pick them in gym, you name it. everyone in the "in" crowd is just that: in. everyone in the group to which i consistently belong was out. out of fashion, out of sorts, out of the picture. we were a solid group, a group held together by the fact that all of us were ignored for some different reason. that was what made us alike--not the same jeans, or the shirt with a certain logo on it--a feeling, an emotion.

i was always a member of this group, due to my red hair and hand-me-down clothing. i could go on and on about the hair issue--when you're older, everyone wants it, when you're a kid, it's nothing but trouble, etc--but that's another story for another day.

being part of the cast away portion of the recess crowd meant that i learned certain lessons quite early. my dad would repeat the time-old mantra: "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me." and over time, you try to ignore the slurs and insults. you learn to be innocuous in other ways--you are quiet, you blend into a crowd, you could be anybody.

dan was one of those kids too, at our high school. his boys ran around wearing black and playing roleplaying games, and being scoffed at for those reasons. they were the "nerds"; my group of girls were just the ones who didn't wear guess jeans and couldn't afford anything from ralph lauren unless it came from a thrift store.

you make your own group, you make your own rules. but you are separated from the whole; you are scattered about, and have to take the time to come together. some people never do find that niche, even if it is the group of forgotten and teased. they prefer the army of one mentality that comes with the solidarity of self.

those kids are the scary ones, nowdays--the ones who are pushed to the side for being too intelligent, too off-mark, the ones who never find people that allow them to be who they are and allow them the acceptance they seek. they're the ones termed "loners."

a song that we sang in grade school comes to mind. it's to the tune of "glory, glory hallelujah."

glory, glory hallelujah
teacher hit me with a ruler
standing behind the door
with a loaded forty-four
and there ain't no teacher no more.

there's more on this at wikipedia, of course: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Burning_of_the_School

school violence is nothing new, i guess is what i'm saying. it's nothing to be forgotten, either. i loved kindergarten; it was the grades between then and graduation that i despised. when i got to college i fell in love with school again, because it was a place where everyone was forgotten, and your clothing ignored. everyone was on a level playing field, at least at my university.

i fear for my sister, who teaches middle school. i fear for her because no amount of protection or security can ensure that someone, somewhere, isn't hating and feeling alienated, by their peers or teachers, parents, siblings. there are any number of reasons why people do what they do, and hindsight is 20/20, and makes it seem as though these things could be prevented.

but it starts earlier than anyone remembers--it starts when you are walking to school at the age of six with your twelve year old neighbors, and suddenly you are the target.

twenty five years down the line, i can see it for what it was--children being cruel. but at that time, it was painful. it was abhorrent. it shaped the person i am now, in ways that i cannot fully explain. i'm one of the lucky ones; my father had guns in his house, but i never got to the point where i thought that was even the remotest option.

my struggles, my violence--was aimed solely at me. i can see it in the suicidal poems i wrote, and the books into which i disappeared for days.

yesterday the first footage that we saw was of people, running away, and police, closing in, on great stone-gray buildings. bodies in motion, united in a common cause.

is it only then, at those times, that the divisions of thought and action are forgotten? that you cling to whoever is closest, for support? that you forget about the barriers that have been erected, and just accept others for the sheer need of it?

it annoys me that it has to come to that; and it terrifies me that more and more often, it does.