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If you ever spend much time watching others, really watching them, you see how much effort goes into simple daily life. There is an inner battle that rages within all of us at all times. The need to belong, to have friends, to simply fit in someplace is incredibly strong and we go to great lengths to achieve that. When you are very young and trying to learn the basics of life, this is very important. Ryan was no different. He devoted a large amount of time searching for the paths that others take, trying desperately to be like them, to act as was expected all in the hopes of fitting in. The path his own mind and heart would take was left unexplored, unattended. The struggle to hear and deserve kind words and praise smothered his own voice, a faint echo in a dense fog of uncertainty. To be "different" or "unique" was not tolerated by most his age, so he found it best to smoothly blend with the majority rather than stand out. This, amplified by the intense stress of his home life made life very confusing at times for him.
At the age of seven and well into second grade, he did a very good job of fooling his teacher. He could read fluently, he loved reading in fact, but in class he suddenly could not seem to remember how to do it. He stammered and faltered as though he had no clue what the words were. He actually remembered most things taught in class rather easily, but found he fit in better with the other kids if he failed a few tests and acted as though he didn't care. He especially loved to write. The teacher encouraged writing stories of family events and traditions, or their views on certain current events. Ryan, of course, made up wonderful stories of family holidays and other family events that never actually happened. He would write page after page in blissful happiness, only to throw it away or store it in a box he kept in his closet with other writings in it. The papers he turned in to the teacher looked and sounded as would be expected at his age.
As the situation at home became more intense, Ryan's attitude at school fell. He was quiet most of the time, but on some days his anger lay just under the surface waiting for a chance to escape. He would lose control of himself and acted in ways that was not normally in his nature.
In January, after the Christmas break, Ryan sat in class staring out of the window at a naked tree nearby. The wind was blowing and the gentle swaying of the branches had him in a trance. He could almost feel what is would be like sitting in it. He could even feel the cool breeze brushing against his skin as the tree rocked him almost to sleep.
They were taking turns reading the report they had to write about their Christmas holiday, but Ryan had not heard a word. He suddenly became dimly aware of laughter. It sounded far away at first but he quickly realized it was right here next to him. He snapped back to reality and was aware of his name being called. Some of the kids were taking great pleasure in the fact that the teacher had been calling to him, each time a bit louder, until her voice was almost at a yell.
"Ryan, it is your turn. Please come up and read your report to us." Mrs. Black seemed a bit annoyed at the whole thing.
No response from Ryan, he simply sat there and stared at her. This created more giggles from the class. The laughter made Ryan mad.
"One more time Ryan. It is your turn to read your report!" She glared down at him now.
"I did't write one." Ryan shrugged his shoulders as if this entire episode was of little importance to him. He resumed looking out the window, dismissing Mrs. Black completely.
"What do you mean you didn't write one? Why didn't you? You must have something you can tell us about your vacation, even if you didn't write it down."
Again, no response from Ryan. He simply stared out of the window willing Mrs. Black to go away. More laughter from the class brought out a surge of anger. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone! He didn't want to talk about his vacation to anyone.
"Ryan, I will ask one more time for you to come up and give your report. Why didn't you write it?"
Suddenly he could stand it no longer. He slammed his hands on the desk hard enough for it to hurt.
"Because it's STUPID that's why! It's none of your business either!" the words just jumped from him without his permission. There they were, right in the open for everyone to hear.
There was a deathly silence at first, then laughter roared! They were taking great pleasure in all of his pain and anger. Ryan looked down at his tightly clamped fists. His face burned with embarrassement, anger and sadness. So many emotions all fighting inside with this young child desperately trying to sort through them and quiet them.
Mrs. Black quieted the class and marched up to Ryan's desk. She grabbed him by his arm and pulled him up. Holding his arm firmly, she guided him towards the door, shooting some sharp words over her shoulder for the class to open their math books and get to work.
Ryan gave little resistance as they hurried down the hall to the office. By this time, his anger had subsided and he felt very tired. He was only vaguely aware of the pain in his arm caused by Mrs. Black's angry clutch. They passed rows of coats and bright cheerful hall decorations. Everything seemed to belong to some distant world not connected to Ryan's world at all. He felt the all too familiar numbing sensation that came over him when he was in trouble.
At the office he was instructed to be seated and wait quietly. He sank gratefully into the chair, so tired he could barely stay awake. They had no idea, how could they, that he had spent another restless night huddled in fear from his parent's fighting.
Mrs Black spoke with the principal, who in turn gave Ryan a lecture on respect, and the importance of school and doing his homework. He dutifully nodded in all the right places and acted regrefull. The principal wrote a note, folded it neatly and put it in an envelope. Ryan was instructed to give this to his parents as soon as he got home. Ryan stared at the envelope in horror. A thousand ideas swam in his head, ways to discard this horrid thing before he got home. In the end, however, he promised to give it to his mother. His eyes filled with tears, but he fought them back. He had not cried in a long time and was not going to do so now. Mrs. Black noticed the change in him and asked if he was feeling well. Ryan, not daring to speak simply shook his head indicating he was not well at all.
Mrs. Black once again took him by his arm, much more gently this time, and guided him to the nurse's office where he was allowed to lay on a cot to rest. He didn't think he could actually sleep in this place, but was out before his head hit the pillow. He slept very soundly until awakened by his mother, shaking him gently and calling his name.
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