I was six when this took place. I had a classmate in my kindergarten who always behaved very frostily around me. I never found out the reason, but I am actually glad I never did.
It is all very confusing really, because she had it all. For a six-year-old, she was popular in our kindergarten. However, when it came to me, she was just indifferent and nasty. She liked to belittle me when I suggested games to play, ignored me when I actually showed interest in being friendly. At times, she also liked to intrude rudely when I answered or asked questions in class.
These are all secondary compared with what she did one morning. That day, I happily skipped to my kindergarten, thinking about the new game we were to play.
As I entered the class, my best friend stopped me at the door as she wanted to go to the toilet. A visit to the toilet was like an adventure at that time, so I was a bit excited at going to the toilet with her. Just then, I felt a piercing pain in my right hand. I gasped for air and turned to look at my hand. It was wedged in the tiny space between the door and the frame, slightly above a rusting hinge.
I screamed in unbearable pain. She, the “bully” was there pushing the door, and there was a look of sheer hatred on her face. Initially, it looked like it was unintentional, but she held on to the door a half second longer, confirming her intention to hurt me. Seeing me in pain, she released the pressure on the door and ran to her mum, who was sitting there, quietly watching the whole scene.
I ran to her mother with my now throbbing and swelling fingers. With tears in my eyes, I complained to her about her daughter’s cruel act. She acted as though it was my fault and told me off, saying I was being naughty, and that is why I got hurt.
I stood there shocked, not knowing what to make of her reaction. Finally, my best friend rushed me to the administrator’s office and my fingers were treated.
After that, it was all a haze of my parents' arrival, their unpleasant exchange with the girl’s mother and an earful for me. I'm not sure why I got a scolding, though.
It was a good and harsh lesson at the tender age of six. Reasoning the girl’s and her mother’s actions, at that time, would have exhausted my brain, but now when I reflect back, I can only squirm pondering the whole incident.
A mother protecting her daughter at the cost of another child’s well being is absolutely damaging. Until today, whenever I bump into this girl in our small town, I wince slightly, remembering the horrible incident.
She doesn’t remember me by now, but too bad for me, her cruel face is one that I can't seem to forget.