It was in Grade VIII, that my parents decided to send me to a boarding convent. I was looking forward to making lots of friends and leading a very up-scaled lifestyle, like most well-groomed convent-bred girls. When I went to attend my interview what greeted me was a classy school with a very proper uniform, amazing landscaped view, and impressive dormitories. It wasn’t until I joined the school did I know that I was surrounded with absolutely mean fellow classmates, cheeky juniors and stern teachers. The little signs of friendship I did see was from my seniors.
I have been bullied around, mentally tortured and laughed at because my linguistic capabilities weren’t what they were used to. To add to my woes; was the drastic change in educational boards affected my scores too. The competition was a silent killer. Teachers weren’t helpful either. They were highly influenced by the “old students”. The principal, an absolutely scary Sister, she was more worried about saving the reputation of the school, than saving the emotional well-being of a student.
My hours of peace and happiness was found when I would go to the lower primary boarding to help tuck in the little ones.
To meet the pressures of education and competition from fellow students, I too had to adopt “not-so-appropriate” methods. (when I think about this today, I now understand why many students commit suicide and get into drugs – all because of the pressure!!). A couple of months down the road I finally had made a few friends and again their peer’s insecurity decided that I was coming in between them and their “best friends”. I was sent nasty letters, indifferently treated and little reminder notes were left on my bed and at my study desk asking me to get away from their lives. I decided to live on my own. A girl staying away from her folks for the first time, going through pressures of friendship, education, and acceptance – all alone in spite of being among a group 135 students or more. I was perhaps the only border from my class who hadn’t got my period. I was taunted for that too….
To make matters worse, I was caught up in a very unfamiliar and not at all welcome situation ‘the lesbian”. At the tender age of 13, when you are not exposed to a concept of “sex” yet, you are suddenly thrown into a sea of homosexuality. I was an easy prey, probably because, I was scared of them, I was alone, didn’t have friends whom I could tell now had teachers on my side to help me. Weekly calls from dad and mum would leave me in tears, not only because I was homesick, but because I was not able to tell them about what was happening. Whenever my name would be announced to take a call, the “attacker” would be lingering near me to hear if I would be telling about them during my 2-minute call with my folks. I was never physically hurt, but definitely approached a lot of times. I have had narrow escapes from them only because of Gods grace and pure luck.
I found solace with nature and my very limited interactions with art & craft. On certain days I would sit with a junior who showed me how to draw freestyle. Some days were spent with a Nun who would show me a few piano lessons that calmed my highly disturbed mind. Sometimes an evening walk, with a very dear friend (perhaps one among the few), would help me learn new aspects to little – little things. My music classes with the band group were something I used to look forward to. All these simple joys of life would make me forget how I was often left out from group games that my classmates would play. How I was not invited to be part of birthday parties many a time. How I was not allowed to be part of group studies, in spite of knowing that I am not good at them. And how I was left to cry for hours…
Why didn’t I tell anything to my guardians or folks when I went on vacation? I was scared. At the age, you are scared to tell things like this to anyone. After going through that emotional trauma – you just want to be left alone. You are scared of being victimized again and again. You are scared of lack of acceptance.
My fond memories from my Convent School….. would be being part of the Christmas program. The secret choir practices so that our seniors wouldn’t know what we are preparing for them and the late night stay back making props for Christmas program. Dance practices for the annual day and drill practice for the sports day. making props for each of these programs and even preparing to host Ms. Naz.
What have I learned??? – If at all I send my children to boarding school, need to tell them what to expect and that they need not be afraid of anything. They should be able to come and talk to me as a mother, as a friend. I gathered up the courage to tell my mum after 6 years of the incident. My one year at Nazareth Convent Boarding School has scarred me for life. It’s been 14 years now since I have left Nazareth behind me, but whenever I see one of my fellow students, at a shopping mall or at a parlor I can feel palpitation and nervousness. I still do not have the guts to walk up to them and say “hello, I hope you rot in hell” 🙂
bluntscorpion 