Mrs. Carnell
Second grade. She was my teacher. I didn’t understand Mrs. Carnell which gave her a mysteriousness that a second grade mind could do wonders with. I don’t remember her ever being mean; being mean would have made more sense to me. She took on the persona of being connected to the dark spiritual world. I imagined her concocting brews and potions after school hours to use on bad little kids; therefore I was angelic to escape her spells.
My memories of her were always in black with a Bible close at hand. Bible/dark spiritual world?? I was seven for goodness sake, the contradiction made it all the more eerie. She wore black lace up shoes with a boot look to them and support hose. A very matronly woman to say the least.
I remember her emotional nature. Very stern until one of her students crossed the line; then she would begin to cry as she tried to drive her point home of the importance of good behavior. Looking back I believe that teaching was a real passion for her. This made controlling her emotions difficult at times. She also had difficulty controlling the number of times we had to write our spelling words weekly. Jimmy Gunnels and I would race to see who would finish first. The end result was the same; a very sore hand from writing. Every student that passed her class is a good speller to this day. It’s incredible.
In high school I began having a dream; a recurring dream. In the beginning it was a nightmare; eventually I could talk myself out of the fear and focus on the details of it after having it several times. While sleeping, a pair of black lace up shoes with a boot look to them would walk into my room… no person… just shoes; inching closer and closer to me. I instantly knew whom they belonged to. My closet door would open and close; items move around in my room. Then the closet door remained open… instead of a wall enclosing the closet there was an opening to the backyard. The black shoes walked to my bed and a broom floated into my hand. My only means of escape from the shoes was to make a run for it through the closet opening. I ran holding tight to the broom as the shoes followed me. I felt a weightlessness and looked down at my feet—-they were no longer on the ground… I was flying. I abruptly woke up shivering.
I continued to have this dream on a consistent basis. In time I realized that the black shoes never once tried to hurt me. I no longer had a dread of the black shoes. The shoes became familiar to me and I would talk to them as though Mrs. Carnell was standing before me. The flying became incredible; stealing my stomach as I would swoop through the air.
Maybe those black lace up shoes were never chasing or threatening me; maybe they were coaxing me to FLY. Could that have been Mrs. Carnell’s intent way back in the second grade, but being misunderstood got in the way? I like to think so anyway.
Fly Away From Here
Aerosmith
My memories of her were always in black with a Bible close at hand. Bible/dark spiritual world?? I was seven for goodness sake, the contradiction made it all the more eerie. She wore black lace up shoes with a boot look to them and support hose. A very matronly woman to say the least.
I remember her emotional nature. Very stern until one of her students crossed the line; then she would begin to cry as she tried to drive her point home of the importance of good behavior. Looking back I believe that teaching was a real passion for her. This made controlling her emotions difficult at times. She also had difficulty controlling the number of times we had to write our spelling words weekly. Jimmy Gunnels and I would race to see who would finish first. The end result was the same; a very sore hand from writing. Every student that passed her class is a good speller to this day. It’s incredible.
In high school I began having a dream; a recurring dream. In the beginning it was a nightmare; eventually I could talk myself out of the fear and focus on the details of it after having it several times. While sleeping, a pair of black lace up shoes with a boot look to them would walk into my room… no person… just shoes; inching closer and closer to me. I instantly knew whom they belonged to. My closet door would open and close; items move around in my room. Then the closet door remained open… instead of a wall enclosing the closet there was an opening to the backyard. The black shoes walked to my bed and a broom floated into my hand. My only means of escape from the shoes was to make a run for it through the closet opening. I ran holding tight to the broom as the shoes followed me. I felt a weightlessness and looked down at my feet—-they were no longer on the ground… I was flying. I abruptly woke up shivering.
I continued to have this dream on a consistent basis. In time I realized that the black shoes never once tried to hurt me. I no longer had a dread of the black shoes. The shoes became familiar to me and I would talk to them as though Mrs. Carnell was standing before me. The flying became incredible; stealing my stomach as I would swoop through the air.
Maybe those black lace up shoes were never chasing or threatening me; maybe they were coaxing me to FLY. Could that have been Mrs. Carnell’s intent way back in the second grade, but being misunderstood got in the way? I like to think so anyway.
Fly Away From Here
Aerosmith
posted by Gaye at 11:39 PM
0 comments
