SCHOOL

In 1962 I received my bachelors degree in psychology from the University of Minnesota. I returned to school in 1964 and received my Masters Degree in Social Work in 1966. Subsequently, I received a Certificate in Family Therapy. I met all the legal and professional requirements to provide Family, Group, Couple and Individual Psychotherapy. I toyed with the idea of returning to school for a PhD, but realized, I would only be doing it to compensate for earlier experiences. This is my story.

I could read before I was five. My parents, or somebody, thought it was a good idea if I skipped kindergarten and went right into first grade. I may have been able to read but I wasn't ready for the school experience. I attended a Catholic School. I had no idea what was going on. I don't think I was ever rebellious, just confused and at sea. I don't remember the early grades very well. I know, I wet my pants two or three times because the teacher shook her head, no, when I raised my hand to go to the bathroom. Yes, shame set in early, and accompanied me for many years.

I couldn't pay attention and it haunted me. I constantly hoped to get out of the hole I dug myself into. But disappointment prevailed. I remember one time, the teacher asked us to read a passage in a book and she assigned each of us a bird to represent the reading group we would be in. When I finished my passage, she said you are a Robin. When the class was finished reading their passages, she asked each student what category they were in. When she came to my name, I must have been in my usual daze and I didn't know what she was asking. Before I could gather my thoughts and reply, I girl piped up and said he is a Cardinal, of course. I was tongue tied. I spent the whole year in the lowest group when I should have been in the highest.

I made some progress in grade school, in terms of my sense of accomplishment and self esteem, but it was not translated into grades. And I couldn't figure out what the problem was. As I sit here I am not sure what the problem was. I must have flunked all the tests but I don't know why. My report cards were mostly Fs, maybe a couple Ds. I remember getting six Fs on one report card. The priest would give out the report cards in front of the class. He would read each of my grades and snap me hard on the cheek; when he came to religion he pinched my cheek hard.

Why did they pass me from grade to grade when I was flunking everything? I was always passed “on condition”, I don't know what that meant. I have a clue to why they kept passing me. As a parochial school, they had to administer state tests. The results were handed back to us. I measured consistently two or three grades ahead. I, always achieved a level on the tests, at least, two or three years ahead of my actual grade placement. I thought, it just meant that Catholic Schools were ahead of public schools. I had no idea how my fellow students did.

Sometimes, the shame was intense. I remember praying that I hoped I was really that dumb, because I couldn't stand being so bad. I can't type this now without crying.

My whole life wasn't horrible. Outside of school, and even in school, I had friends. I always had friends. I had a place in my family and I was loved by many.

As I progressed through grade school things got better. I had good social connections. My grades improved; Ds and a few Cs. I don't remember getting any Bs and I know I didn't get any As. [I received my first A in college].

I went to a public high school. The same school my parents went to. It was better, but I continued my self defeating strategies. By now it became a game and I may have had a chip on my shoulder; I didn't know it though. I will talk more about that.

Obviously I was learning or I wouldn't have done so well on the state test. I was always a reader. When the teacher passed out the text books I read them cover to cover immediately. Whether it was history, geography, whatever, I read the books by the end of the first week. But the rest of the time I didn't know what was going on. In ninth grade, I remember doing a class reading of Silas Marner. Each student read aloud a few chapters and the rest of us followed along. I was so interested in the story, I couldn't take the slow pace, I tried to keep one finger in the book, where the class, was and I was several chapters ahead. Well, of course. That didn't work. I was so engrossed with what I was reading, I didn't hear the teacher call on me to read.

Yes, High School was better, but I had developed an attitude by then. I still tried. I remember a 11^th grade history class. I loved history and I liked the teacher. For the first time in my life I thought I was going to get an A. I had received perfect scores on all the tests. We filed by the teachers desk to have her mark our report cards. I gave her my report card and watched her give me a red F. I was stunned and horror struck. Sometime later, I learned, I got an F because we were instructed to write our tests in pen and I had used a pencil. Oh, I am sure the rest of the class heard those instructions. I don't know now, if I didn't hear them, or I decided it shouldn't matter. But in that little example was the essence of my problem. I was lucky to have a pencil. When I say, “I didn't know what was going on”, I mean, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON.

This story is getting way too long. I didn't graduate from high school. I was asked to leave too many classes. I made up the courses, in an approved correspondents study, but I never applied for a diploma.

I did a lot of growing up in the Air Force. As usual, I did very well on their tests, I was assigned to an electronic technician school to learn to be a radar repair person. I consistently got the best grades in the class in electronic theory. Number grades. I had yet to receive an A.

I was 23 when I was discharged from the Air force and was able to go to college. I received my first A. The first quarter, I got all As and the highest grade in my psychology class. I didn't continue so stellar, but I did get married after my freshmen year, bought a house, and had my first child, after my sophomore year. I loved college. I finally figured out school.

I didn't mean for this to be so long. I have much more I could say. I was very reluctant to broach this subject. The past is the past. We do need to give up the past. Yet, I know writing about it helps me give it up at deeper levels and I hope it has value for others.

One might ask, where were the teachers and parents when this small child was going through the agony of believing he was hopelessly bad? I think my parents were overwhelmed and just divorced themselves from a process they didn't understand. After all outside of school, I was like the rest of the kids.

I don't remember a single person taking me aside and asking me, “What is wrong?” Maybe they did.

This experience was valuable, when working with kids professionally. Most kids don't know when they have a chip on their shoulder. They don't understand their attitude. They are just doing their best to survive. I need to write more about this. There is much more to say.

Love and Peace, Gregg