How Perspectives Change

   When I was younger and was forced to take gym class I hated it. I was that awkward kid whom when playing dodge-ball would hit members of my own team. Gym teachers always seemed to dislike me - maybe it was because I wasn't good at any of the sports they had me play, couldn't run to save my life, and had terrible hand-eye coordination. When I wasn't hitting members of my own team I was getting hit square in the face. Once I was an eighth grader I wasn't required to take a gym class anymore, and I was joyous to no longer suffer the wrath of my gym teachers. That is until my family moved to another state and I was once again required to take a gym class. The first few days were horrible! At that moment the class was focused in on playing volley ball and I managed to hit my teacher over and over again. One day I realized that a couple of girls would ditch the class in front of the teacher and he wouldn't say anything. I thought that maybe it was okay to not attend gym class since he seemed okay with it and so I began to join these girls every single time that we had to play volley ball. The teacher didn't seem to care or notice my absence so I kept joining the group of girls. One day after gym class was over I was walking over to my locker when a TA pulled me aside and proceeded to scream at me. I was so shocked that I didn't know how to respond. I don't remember everything that she told me word for word, but I do remember the gist of it. She basically told me or yelled at me that what I was doing (ditching gym class) was wrong and that I was better than that. I have no idea as to what my response to her was because I was so shocked. After a while of her scorning me the shock subdued and I became worried because I had to go to class. But I couldn't go to class until I went to my locker to get my stuff.  If the TA didn't hurry up and stop lecturing me, I'd be late for class! When I finally managed to get away from her and get to my class I remember feeling so embarrassed, ashamed, and grudgeful towards that TA. How dare she talk to me like that? She didn't even know me. For years I've kept that shameful grudgeful feeling towards that woman. But the other day I was remembering this memory that had been buried so deep within my mind that I'd forgotten about it. At that moment I realized what I had failed to see so long ago and all of those years full of resentment. That TA who didn't even know me cared enough to try and set me on the right path. Did it work? Honestly, most of that year was a blur so I don't know. However, I do know that after that year I never ditched a class again because for some unknown reason (well, up until I remembered this oppressed memory), I've been too scared to do it. I'll never truly know why she cared enough to tell me, practically a stranger, that I was worthy and good and that I was following a crooked path. She might never know how truly grateful I am for that. All I can do is fondly and gratefully remember that day when a random TA scolded and yelled at me.