"That Weird Kid"

Growing up, I was “The Weird Kid.” I was the one who kept to herself on the playground with her nose buried in a book above her grade level and preferred to hang out with the teachers above the other students.

Kids can be very cruel. Once, a boy laughed as he tried to spit on me from the story above and made me late to class. I was cornered in the bathroom by a bunch of cheerleaders and threatened with an uncertain fate merely for talking in the hall to a boy one of them liked. Another time, a poem was circulated around school talking about how I probably sucked my thumb. I could quote part of it to you to this day – even though that was now over twenty years ago.

If I reported it, I got made fun of for not understanding that people were “just joking.” So, I learned to laugh along and pretend I didn’t care because I had no choice. Nothing helped, but letting them think that it didn’t bother me very much seemed to make some of my tormentors lose interest.

I had… friends, I guess. I hesitate to use that word because I was often the fringe of the group that was more tolerated than included. My opinions were frequently disregarded or mocked. Even when I was being taken seriously, I was guarded because of how often I had been put down. People would turn to me for comfort or advice, but I didn’t have anyone that I could count on to help with my own problems.

I was so grateful that in eighth grade I began to be home-schooled. Although the average middle and high schoolers can’t handle being around someone who is different from the “norm,” it was easier to just be around my Girl Scout troop and church youth group about three times per week.

After I graduated from high school, I enrolled in the local community college. I had always been an introvert but after my middle school experiences, I really just wanted to keep to myself. The first couple of semesters, I just went to class and went home. I mostly just talked to my advisor and teachers.

Then, the drama department announced they were putting on an intriguing play the following semester and I decided to audition. The part that I auditioned for wasn’t right for me at all, but the head of the department was still very impressed with my performance. She offered me an included non-speaking role and gave me a few lines to say.

The nature of theatre gave me a ready-made group of acquaintances that I was forced to talk to in class and during rehearsals. I was recognized for my talent and hard work by my peers for the first time.

One night in September, it was starting to get dark early and I was nervous about walking down to the parking lot alone. A girl and her boyfriend offered to walk me down and we all struck up a conversation. These were the first of several actual relationships that I formed with my classmates.

In theatre, everyone is “the weird kid,” so I found myself fitting in for the first time in my life. I changed my major to drama and threw myself into learning about the theatre. I really loved it and the people I was surrounded by. Not only was I accepted but also people wanted my company and would seek me out.

Of course, not everyone outgrows high school. A couple of semesters later, a catty nontraditional student who was definitely old enough to know better started displaying the same cruel behavior that I had suffered when I was younger. Despite the progress I had made, I was paralyzed back into the same mindset of middle school where I tried to pretend I wasn’t bothered. However, she apparently didn’t realize that I had friends. It was very gratifying to see someone sanctioned by my peers for their treatment of me.

I was actually stunned by how easy it had been for me to fall back into old patterns when I felt like I had done so much growing. I discussed this with a friend of mine while we were working on a set together. She asked me a question that changed everything.

“Why are you giving so much time and attention to people that don’t care about you?”

It didn’t hit me right away, but as I thought about it, I realized that the situation didn’t merit the kind of stress it was causing me.

I decided to give the ridiculous woman’s ridiculous behavior the exact amount of attention it deserved – none. And now, every time I meet someone else who doesn’t know how to act, I ask myself that same question:

“Why are you giving so much time and attention to people that don’t care about you?”