Non-Running Commentary: Charlie Brown and the dog food story

Did you have empathy for fictional characters as a child?

I mean, actual empathy. Not relating with Jerrica because she was all angsty that Rio was cheating on her with her alter ego Jem. (And if you had that problem as a child? Well, that’s more than I can handle today.) Like, who did you feel for?
For me? It was Charlie Brown.

While I think a lot of people related with Charlie Brown, I’d occasionally BECOME Charlie Brown. No, really. I’d only answer to Charlie Brown. I’d refuse to do anything unless you called me Charlie Brown. I’d still dress like me and do everything I always did. I was still a girl with really long hair. BUT I MADE PEOPLE CALL ME CHARLIE BROWN.

(Yeah. I was like 4. So sue me.)

While I eventually outgrew that, I always had empathy for Charlie Brown. Maybe because I never quite related with kids my age. We didn’t talk about the same things. I was usually friendly with boys (who thought I was funny) and shunned by girls. It was a source of frustration for me: I knew that people would pay attention and laugh at what I said when I was funny, but most of the time had no interest in what I had to say.

And again, I was like…4 so what could that have been?

Long story short, I was kind of an odd ball: not a total social outcast per se, but generally not very popular. I was always determined to do well, and almost always failed. Every time I tried to create some form of art or win a part in a play…I’d lose. Even if things looked good for me at first. And I latched on to losing causes: I stumped for Dukakis in elementary school. I had self made anti George H.W. Bush propaganda taped to my desk. (Yeah. In my rural elementary school where kids were taken out to go hunting regularly.) As a result, I was kind of a sad sack at a young age.

But the thing is, I played it to my advantage.

I was a stubborn little kid, but I knew I could generally make people laugh. (At least in elementary school. My introduction to middle school was ugly, largely because I couldn’t make people laugh anymore…but who had a good time in middle school??? Seriously? What an awful time!) So that’s what I set out to do.
If was picked on, I might freak out and whine and cry after first…but generally, I’d fight back. Sometimes physically, sometimes with a “I’m rubber and you’re glue!” type of line. But mostly, with humor. And it was usually self deprecating.
If a kid called me ugly? I’d thank them. I’d tell them that if they called me pretty, I might get violent. And glue stuff to my nose and say “See, I’m ugly like a witch! I have a wart!” I’d usually get a few people laughing, and if anybody picked on me more…I’d throw stuff back at them.

Clearly, I was not a favorite of teachers. I was generally labeled “troubled.” And frankly, I liked the attention. If I got sent to the school counselor? I’d make up stories. Just flat out make stuff up. I’d tell her I watched a special on TV about a girl who died and how I thought about that being me…only to have a school counselor call my parents freaking out about how I was suicidal. (Giving me the attention I wanted! Only to get in trouble with my parents for shooting my mouth off later. Whoops.) And for years…I always, always…came back to Charlie Brown. I’d label myself a loser. And point out “I’m like Charlie Brown!”
In retrospect, I have to wonder what the hell these teachers and guidance counselors were smoking.

I’ve worked with children, and I’ve discovered that A LOT OF KIDS ARE JUST SARCASTIC. Some of them just don’t sound like kids. And hell, they might even call themselves ugly. Or stupid. But if they’re doing so in a manner that is obviously meant to get attention…why would you GIVE the kid the attention they are begging for?

The thing is, kids have different personalities. Shocking, I know. But seeing that I went to a rural elementary school in the mid 80′s, I think there was a sense that kids SHOULDN’T be individuals. As a result, I was labeled a troublemaker (and let’s face it, to some extent I was…but it was pretty innocuous. I had a big mouth. I wasn’t blowing up frogs. I should never have been treated like I was) and teachers/counselors spent a lot of time trying to fix me, completely oblivious to the fact that I didn’t want to be fixed.

Around 4th grade, we had to take a “drug resistance” class. It wasn’t DARE. It was a local version of the same thing. And I thought it was a CROCK OF SHIT. I jokingly called it “self-esteem” class and generally strove to point out how stupid everything was. If we were told to make a poem about ourselves using letters in our name, I’d find ways to either use the most negative words possible (“You told me sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me….now you’re telling me I CAN’T use words because they ‘hurt?’ Even when I’m using them on myself!!”) or tying them into Charlie Brown’s many characteristics.
All of these things usually resulted in…you got it. Laughter from the other kids. Exactly what I wanted!

Now in this case…you clearly have a kid who is a distraction to the class. Wouldn’t it have made sense to have me stay in the class and study seeing that this class wasn’t part of the curriculum? (Honestly, teachers…I’m curious on this one.)

The teacher’s decided they had a better plan for me: they’d put me – and two boys that did something similar – in a “special” self-esteem class IN ADDITION TO THAT ONE.

Yeah, you get my drift.

They took me out of the classroom for ANOTHER hour a week. When I was failing math…TO PUT ME IN A SELF ESTEEM CLASS WITH THE SPECIAL EDUCATION KIDS.

Remember the Simpsons episode where Bart ended up in a special education class? Yeah. I know how that feels.

Needless to say, we were pissed. My friends and I continued to do the same thing. We made trouble. We passed notes. We made a mockery of the whole thing. I said my religion was ugly and that in my religion the uglier you are the better you were so I could call myself ugly all I wanted. One of my friends told stories about putting firecrackers in squirrels (“That makes me feel good about myself, is that ok?”). It was…a riot.

Within a couple weeks…he was kicked out. Then the other boy put in the class with me was kicked out.

But I remained. Despite being just as big as a distraction.

I was pissed.

And did I mention that this class was very close to where my father taught? I don’t know that I ever told him about this class because it was so unbelievably humiliating, and he was kind of fed up with my daily detentions as was.

In my second to last time in self esteem class, we were told the principal and superintendent would be there for our next class and we had to do a presentation about ourselves. We were to create a collage and tell a story about how great we were!!!

Yeah, I wanted to puke.

But I also saw it as an opportunity.

So I got to work.

My collage of personal interests included one thing: dog food ads.

You can guess where this is going.

When I had to present in the next class, I started off telling them “Call me doggy, because eating dog food is my favorite thing to do!”

I then told them about my favorite types of dog food. I told them that I’d like to eat dog food for every meal. I believe I preferred snausages.

And I did it all with a great big smile.

I don’t really remember all the details of what happened next, but I don’t think I had to go back to that class.

***
Why did I tell you all this story? (And yes, it’s a true story. Even if the details are a bit fuzzy.)

I honestly don’t know.

But I think it’s hilarious. Largely because it’s funny to see how people perceive us. In retrospect, it seems obvious to me that I was a snot nosed little shit with a flair for dramatics. And that was never really encouraged. Instead, teachers told me to shit down and shut up. I’d get special rewards for keeping my mouth shut. They told me I was trouble. They told me I was a bad example. They never spoke kindly to me if I got picked on…and then expected me to be all sunshine and roses when it came to presenting myself. They looked at me very superficially and had this impression that was just…off.

Was I happy kid? Obviously not. But the thing is, I wasn’t unhappy either.

I was a snot nosed little shit, who moped around one minute and made jokes the next.

As you can tell, nothing much has changed.

But for all my bitching? I don’t think I turned out all THAT badly.

So on that note, I’d like to tell my 2nd, 4th and 5th grade teachers to go fuck themselves. Most of my 6th grade teachers too, though there is a special place in hell for my 6th grade English teacher who may be the vilest woman to ever walk the Earth. So to all of you? FUCK OFF. I’m still a sad sack. I still bitch and moan. But I’m fucking funny, and I’m fucking awesome EVEN THOUGH I STILL FIND MYSELF UGLY. So you can all die.

And I still relate with Charlie Brown. Sure, he failed a lot…much like yours truly. But remember when he lost the spelling bee due to a stupid mistake? He was depressed as all hell…but like Linus* said, the world doesn’t end. He went on.

And Charlie and I both know that. It’s OK to feel bad and vocalize it. Really.

It’s OK to be yourself.

* Is it just me, or was Linus the Wilson to Charlie’s House?