How Writing Got Me Out of Punishment

You can probably tell from the fact that I’m a blogger that I like to write. Writing has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I’ve written poetry, children’s stories, a scary “novel” with my best friend Erin (it’s called A Stranger’s Obsession – much in the same vein as Christopher Pike’s scary stuff from the early 90s – at the time we (well, ok, I) knew we were going to be famous), and multiple diary entries. When I grew up, I became a high school English teacher. I really like writing.

It’s safe to assume that I’ve used writing to my benefit on many occasions. I’m not saying I’m the best at it, but I can turn a phrase when needed.

Somewhere, around the 6th grade, I was grounded. I have no clue what I would have done — being the perfect angel that I am and always have been — but Mom and Dad decided that I wasn’t allowed to go with the youth group to Six Flags. This was awful as I was in love with one of the boys in the youth group and just had to go so I could bat my eyelashes at him all day while pretending I thought he was dumb.

Dramatization of what I looked like. Except, I was older.Image courtesy of imagerymajestic/freedigitalphotos.net
Dramatization of what I looked like. Give or take a year.
Image courtesy of imagerymajestic/
freedigitalphotos.net

I turned to my only resource: the written word. I cried and cried over the notebook paper as I poured my heart and soul out. I begged for them to let me go and promised I wouldn’t do whatever dastardly deed I’d committed ever again. In the two-page letter I wrote, I pointed out all of my good behavior and lack of formal punishments to date.

It worked. They let me go. Cha-ching.

Recently, I looked through some of the poems I have written (and saved — I’m quite the sentimental gal) through the years. Mom and Dad, this one was addressed to you:

http://iamlearningdisabled.com/disability-is-not-disaster/ Roses are red;

http://woosterglass.com//plus/comments_frame.php violets are blue;

you’re my parents,

and I love you.

Although sometimes

you burn my toast,

you’re still the ones

I love the most.

Gah. Gotta love that metaphor.

I’m participating in Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop. Be sure to read some of the other posts that have been linked up!

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

 

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