11/25/15
The
Woman of Steele (Narrative)
It was the best decision I ever made to walk into Ms.
Steele’s office that one day in my sixth grade year. I had absolutely no idea
what to expect. All I knew was that I was walking and opening the door. Ms.
Steele was the trust counselor in Palm Springs Middle school, and the angel
that saved me from falling into the treacherous pit of adolescent angst and
confusion. With her guidance, I learned to express my thoughts and understand
them, consider actions both on mine and others’ behalf, and most importantly I
learned to trust myself and build the confidence I need in order to eat the
world.
Just a wee little thing, I felt the weight of the world
on my shoulders and I failed to understand why. I roamed the school halls with
a creeping sense of being shoved down. These were things I never experienced
before, so I sought out help. That first day, I sank into a large, consuming
yet comfortable seat of forest green which leaned against Ms. Steele’s metal
desk next to the door. The small office invited me into its dimly lit interior.
A black leather couch laid against the wall across from the entrance with a
rectangular crimson rug at its feet. Funny to think back to it now, little did
I know that that would evolve into my sanctuary. Ms. Steele sat up in her pink
office chair. She wore shoulder length blonde hair above her petite, pale
frame. As embarrassing as it seemed, the first forms of communication beamed
out from me were, in fact, sobs. It only took one look from her concerned blue
eyes for me to break down. But she quickly sprang into action; she handed me
some tissues from the box conveniently placed on her desk and scooched her
chair closer to me. “I don’t know what to do!” I choked. At that moment right
there is where the new me first breathed. I seemed to have succumbed under the
tremendous stress of juggling the many responsibilities that deterred me from a
childhood of fun and play. As the oldest of three, I acted as the second mother
to my younger siblings Jose and Jessica. I had (then) gone through about 10
surgeries to correct my cleft lip, a common birth defect. My world consisted of
doctors, surgeons, needles, blood, pain, sacrifice, and worst of all, health
insurance. It all began to take a toll on me. With each surgery came each
recuperation, and with those soon came the dreadful removing of stitches and
bandages. The removals weren’t as bad as the looks though. I continued to stand
out somehow. I suffered more surgeries than I had to. My surgeon allowed
students to perform the surgeries and then be the ones to remove the stitches.
It was a pain unlike any other. The worst part being that I still looked the
same! All that pain, for nothing! They didn’t know what they were doing and I,
a child, had to pay the price. How could I possibly explain the years of
injustice and agony I felt to this sweet little woman? Ms. Steele explained
that not just any child can be strong enough to grow up before time is called.
The experiences in my short life gave me a window that nobody else could see
through, those words stood out to me. I began to appreciate this window. I
thought, “Wow, she’s right. I see it. I made friends along the way – the other
patients I met with the same issue, and my roommates in the hospital rooms –
and I have a second home in the hospital. Maybe it’s better to stand at this
point than to be running around giggling with annoying children.” Truth is, I
get along with the hospital staff better because they know the reality of the
situation. Kids just think about their homework, stickers, friends, and toys. I
held bigger things on my plate. In my mind I calculated dates for appointments,
names of specialists, specific functions of these specialists, x-rays, weight
complications, possible anesthesia complications due to weight, and pressure
from everyone and their mother for me to gain weight so that the next surgery
won’t be delayed. Honestly, the kids my age would just slow me down. I already
opened my eyes and saw how difficult the real world is and I didn’t have time
to waste playing patty-cake. With one session a week, I was learning to
comprehend my emotions of indignation and began to analyze my causes of stress.
After the analytical step, I had to express my thoughts and concerns so that
together we’d battle the demons of doubt. It was amazing the relief I felt just
talking to someone who could respond with worth-while advice. I’d say something
like “I feel… because… and I’d like to… so how can I? In three years’ time we knocked down one by
one the towers that kept me retreated within my shell.
I knew I was lucky, lucky enough to have someone guide me
and clean my window when the view grew foggy. Now, I didn’t exactly feel
victimized as much as I felt angry. I felt angry sometimes because I too asked
the clouds “why me? Out of the billions of people in the world, why I did I
have to be the one going through all this? I know I’m not the only one, but why
am I one of them?” These were low points for me. I needed to understand that
“people, especially children, act out negatively when feeling down.” The window
is wiped. I saw others clearly for what they were feeling. I understood why
they behaved the way they did. The girl who developed early didn’t like me
because she wasn’t accustomed to someone saying no to her. Said girl took
charge of having the class isolate me for “being weird”. The young boy who used
to be my good friend also led the class and spread a rumor about me taking an
anger management course. It was true. “Boys in their youth do hurtful things
sometimes to gain attention from others.” He was trying to get close to the devil
girl. The window is wiped. I went on a field trip with Ms. Steele and the kids
from the anger management class to the streets to raise awareness for
homelessness. “Some people lose their way in life and with it, their families
and stability. Some of these people need medical attention but can’t afford it,
so they remain in the dark. Not all of these people are drunks and/or drug
consumers. There are families that are homeless, kids like you that go to
school, are homeless. These people just need compassion and guidance.” My
window grew in size, and the view? Crystal clear. I have an older half-brother,
Jaime, a few weeks ago we bought a bunch of pizzas at a shopping center. There
was a homeless man on the corner of the center. He dragged a Home Depo cart
full of cans, a few articles of clothing, and a wiener dog. This man just sat
there gazing, contemplating the sunset and petting his dog. Jaime and I had 4
boxes of pizzas on our hands. We took a few from each box, wrapped them up in
paper towels, and put them in a bag. We moseyed on down to the man. Jaime
handed the bag of pizzas to him and apologized for having put them in a bag.
The man, delighted, placed the dog securely in the cart and accepted the bag
thanking us. “Oh they’re still warm!” he exclaimed. Jaime responded, “Yes,
there are different types too. We hoped they’d be enough for you and your dog.”
The ragged man thanked us again and blessed us. We walked away leaving a kind
spark in the man’s eyes as he fed his dog. I thought of Ms. Steele.
In her office she pinned up letters of gratitude from
other students. I thought that on my last day of eighth grade I’d dedicate one
as well. I was never able to. I tried, but there was so much that happened that
I didn’t even know what to say. Next thing I knew, the bell rang and I ceased
to be a middle schooler. Now that I’ve grown up and applied her wisdom to my
life, I know what to say. I’d say, “Thank you for choosing your career, because
you excel at it. Because of you I didn’t break down as tragically as others I
know. I felt like I always had someone in my corner rooting for me and I’ll be
eternally grateful for that encouragement. I grew to understand that there’s
more than the Hispanic mother’s way to express one’s self. I stood limp on the
ground facing everyday battered up by my mistrust in others and in myself. Now,
I hear your voice in my head conquering any corrupt thought of myself. I am a
strong young woman with a mind that grows every single day and a kind heart. I
am blessed to have a family that cares about my well-being and to have a
brother and sister that need my guidance as someone experienced. I thought
about becoming a trust counselor too but I’m trying out another form of therapy
to help others. I didn’t know I was depressed, or that I was being bullied. I
thought that was just the way things were supposed to go. Thank you for finding
me. Thank you for teaching me how to control myself when I’m about to burst out
of my seams. There’s so much I’d like to tell you about. I fell in love for the
first time. And then I plummeted out of it. But that’s okay because I’m in
college now and there’s barely enough time to socialize between my classes and
all the television I watch! Next time I’ll gracefully step into it instead of
falling. I restrain myself from tainting my glass with a rose color, I like my
clear view. I don’t regret the experience. I don’t regret any of the events in
my life because they shaped me into the person I am today; a humorous, five foot
tall noodle with hair that won’t be tamed. The responsibilities list keeps
growing now that I’m 19. I get stressed out sometimes but it doesn’t last long
because I watch the burden float away in the pink balloon when I close my eyes,
just like you taught me. It’s all just temporary. That’s gotten me through so
much pain. I might need one more surgery by the way. This will be the last one.
I’m up to 14 surgeries. Each one has gotten easier. I considered volunteering
at the hospital, but it’s too far. In time I’ll give back. Thank you for
everything Ms. Steele. I’m a work in progress, but I’m happy.”
I really am happy. I’m hopeful about the future. I had no
idea what I was going to do with my life. I didn’t even think that college was
an option for me. I have a dream of making films and as crazy as it sounds, I’m
pretty confident about it! With the proper structure, I’ll be able to tell a
great story that will connect with the audience and one day help another little
noodle find the confidence within themselves to strive for their dreams. I owe
it all to Ms. Steele for helping me rise from the ashes of common torment that
swallow young kids up. I can manage my train of thought in a more organized
fashion, thank you very much. And I understand that we as humans respond to the
behaviors of others and sometimes reciprocate in the way that we shouldn’t, but
it’s all a part of how we’re wired and see things. And I’m not one to brag but,
my window is expanding into a balcony and I’m installing a chair because I know
the importance of appreciating a moment. It’s going to be a green chair.
