What happens to teachers pets when they grow up, get married have a kid, start a blog and then a whole social media platform? Oh should I makes this less about me?
The truth is being a teachers pet isn’t a bad thing. The years I was in public school, I was scared into being shy; not by bully’s (although I think everyone had at least one of those in their life).
I was different, and suddenly realizing what it meant to not have a mom or dad in my life. Even others who weren’t raised by their parents were being raised by grandparents, which was an acceptable norm. I was raised by my aunt and uncle. Every time a teacher referred to our parents, in my mind I had to say “oh my aunt”. People always had questions about why I didn’t live with my mom and dad, but it was a complicated answer that wasn’t school appropriate.
I was also a minority. Well sort of… I grew up in a primarily Hispanic and Black area. I’m half Mexican, but I didn’t look it. I didn’t speak Spanish so I wasn’t ‘Mexican enough’ for them. There were only 5 other white girls in my school that I can remember (and I didn’t go to school with them all in the same year) They had it worse than me. One with an abusive step dad and trying desperately to hide it. Most of them dirt poor and falling into the arms of any boy who would give them attention. A few Black kids accepted me part time, as if I was a novelty. I was accepted but definitely didn’t ‘fit in’.
We lived in a low income area so no kid was really happy, but at least they had their group’s of friends. I on the other hand was the odd ball and going though big time issues. Teachers loved me and encouraged me. Never the cool teachers that all the bad kids clung too, but there was a teacher for everyone. I think sometimes we forget that teachers are more than just educators. They bond with their students and help them through big things that parents don’t even know about.
Being a teachers pet gave me sense of pride. I was recognized. When I couldn’t fit in with my peers, I could earn recognition. After my back surgery, I started homeschooling. So I jumped into being the youth pastors pet.
I grew up and things turned a bit unheathy (at no fault of the teachers and pastors, I needed it in that time of my life). I grew up and learned to make friends, I learned to embrace the things that made me different. I even learned that I wasn’t really that different after all, but I still craved that recognition. I grew up wanting to earn the worlds attention. I turned every goal, hobby, and ambition into an opportunity for recognition. I still played by the good teachers pet rules, you don’t point out your accomplishments, you just sit and wait to be noticed. The things is, if you’re not noticed it means it wasn’t good enough. Your just a big F word! No, not that F word! The other one… failure! And boy does living like that set you up for it.
I was playing a game no one else was in on… It’s kind of pathetic, but the thing is I’ve gone most of my life not realizing it. Kind of like my own personal game of Jumanji. Every missed opportunity for recognition left me feeling empty and every recognition pushed me up to an unsustainable high, and of course ended in a plummet back down to earth. The grown up teachers pet can so easily turn into the people pleaser. Anything to get that much needed approval right?
Eh, I went another route. The know it all. Oh yeah for years it all went to my head. Eventually though, the know it all isolates themselves. So I out grew that, and just floundered with all the grounded people. They weren’t floundering, it was just me not wanting to be normal. The idea of fitting in was now appalling. Who would recognize me if I blended in? I even tried to be Gods pet. I know laughable! That was really hard to strive for when the Bible is clear that God is no respecter of persons, and loves all His children the same.
As a recovering teachers pet, I have to remind myself to do things because I want to, and that the reward is enjoying it. I have to tell myself it’s ok to go unnoticed. My love is enough for me. It’s ok to be equal, it’s even ok to be less. There is not scale for humanity, no trophy or ticket for the prize box. Be you and be ok with that.
lostmymommymind.wordpress.com 