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Y'know, being a military child is a lot more stressful than everyone else makes it out to be. Yea we travel, we see new things and I'm fine with that, it's just really hard, having to start life over every three years. Well maybe it isn't, I've never tried to make it easy I don't think. I moved to Germany when I was in kindergarten, I lived on an Air Base so i was still surrounded by America. If there were differences I never noticed them. I remember my first day in kindergarten. We were watching a movie, and our carpet had squares on the edges and the kids would sit in a square. My mom had told me to make friends, so during the movie I was talking to kids, not really caring if they talked back or not.So the teacher moved me. And moved me. And moved me again. I think she sat me in eight different places before giving up. I don't remember what the movie was about, but it didn't interest me very much.
But my earliest memory of remembering that my dad was in the military is me walking into the living room. We lived with my mom's parents because my dad was in Korea. And I say Korea but if he was in North or South he never told us, I assume south because it was safer, but anything happens, and he keeps his mouth shut to give us peace of mind. So I walked into the living room, Mom was talking on the phone or watching television. I was in footie pajamas, my hair was up and i was wearing Pocahontas slippers where, it has like a chest up and plastic piece of Pocahontas. And I walked up and I remember asking when Daddy was coming home. She looked ready to cry and said she didn't know. At the time I didn't really know what made her look sad, so I sat down and fiddled with my slippers before pulling out the plastic piece and laughing. It made her laugh. I was satisfied and I went back to my room.
So back to Germany. We had been there for three years, I was in third grade and dad said we might be moving. I prepared to pack, finding my toy doctors bag and shoving all my toys in it. But a couple days later he said we weren't and we stayed another three years, though those next three years we traveled. I grew up in Germany from kindergarten to sixth grade. I remember I was so afraid of middle school, and I had a bad memory because I remember a guy, we went to his house because my sister was friends with his sister and such. But the next time I saw him, I had no idea who he was. But my last day there I remembered him, or faintly did and took his picture. My friend gave me her address so I could mail letters to her.
I never really did. I never mailed her a letter because we never unpacked the box I put it in. I sort of regret that. I wonder how long she waited for me to respond before giving up. Sorry if my memories jump back and forth. I'm just slowly remembering things.
I remember fourth grade, or one event. My 1st and 2nd grades were the same teacher with the same class because we were learning German, to help us live in Germany. I had two Chelsea's, two Nicholas's and two Hannah's. In fourth grade I had Nicholas number two, he was a little slow, thinking back he probably had some sort of mental illness. But because I didn't know anyone in fourth grade he was my friends. I remember one time the teacher gave us a worksheet, you know, do the math and follow the path in the maze or whatever. Well two girls showed me their paper or asked me what I got and I showed them. They told me I was wrong and when i tried to explain they didn't give me the chance and I started crying. We were on our way to lunch so the teacher had left the room. I was standing crying in my row because they made me believe I was wrong. So e came up to me and asked me what's wrong and I told him, showing him my paper. He told me I was right, pointing at my red crayon. He made he feel better before walking with me to lunch. I kinda miss him. I don't think I ever told him thank you.
I think I'll stop it here, I'll continue this later in another journal.
 Your Missing Period · Sun Jan 23, 2011 @ 03:05am · 0 Comments |
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