If you've ever seen Clerks, then you might know the first part of the title is about the "Shell Shock" phenomenon. It's when someone comes into a store with the intent of finding the perfect carton of eggs. They perform all sorts of odd tests in search of that perfect carton. But, they always pay for what they break and they never really bother anybody... But it only happens with school guidance counselors. But why guidance counselors?
To which the girl explaining it says, "If your job served as little purpose as theirs, wouldn't you lose it too?"
Dante responds with "Come to think of it, my guidance counselor was kinda worthless".
What the hell does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well, very recently my mother was telling me about all the messed up things that my school teachers and school counselors would tell my parents about me. They'd lecture my parents on how to properly bring up a child, they'd tell them I was over-medicated, that I was just looking for attention, that I was faking. Some even went as far as threatening to call DSS on my parents because they refused to keep me back in 2nd grade. Why did they suggest I stay back in 2nd grade, you ask? They said it was because I never really raised my hand to ask for help or ask questions and that I was very quiet. I had great grades, was extremely kind and thoughtful to others, yet kept to myself a lot. Most teachers would call that a model student. But no, the teacher and counselor told my parents that if I refused to participate in classroom conversations, I *must* be kept back...
Yes, because I was quiet and was a good student, I should have to leave all my friends, and spend one more year in the class with a teacher who already though my parents were sick, abusive, and ignorant. My parents stood their ground and didn't keep me back, and for that I am thankful. But, the next year, the school made it mandatory that I see the school counselor twice a week. (Yes, pull me out of class for 45 minutes twice a week so I can miss school work, great idea! Thus began the other kids making fun of me for needing special help, so again, knock-up job!!)
Which brings me to this story which my mother told me and I couldn't help but laugh:
In 3rd grade, the school counselor had me draw a picture of my immediate family. I was eight years old, so I was like, Hell yeah! I get to draw! And I was stoked because I got to draw me wearing my new Bret Hart shirt. So I began to draw my parents, brothers and cat and saved myself for last because I wanted to take extra time to put detail into the Hitman. Shortly after I put pencil to paper though, I realized that I poorly allotted space for myself and bitchin' new shirt, so I asked for another piece of paper so I could finish it properly. She said no, so I made do with what I had.
I decided to be artistic and have me peeking around the side of the page and giving a thumbs up, because again, I was eight and figured hey, it's an excuse to draw in school... So I had just drawn an amazing portrait of a loving American family, MY loving American family and me in my Bret Hart shirt. I even drew my cat's tail with the "whoosh" quick movement lines so it looked like her tail was wagging back and forth...
Totally not realizing it was about to be used as "proof" that my parents were abusive.
My counselor saw it a bit differently. To her it was a horrifying and sickening portrayal of abuse, one of the worst she'd ever seen. She saw that since my parents were drawn so much taller than my brothers, that it was more than obvious that I felt that we were helpless against my parents' wrath over us. (or ya know, the fact that they actually were taller than us)
She thought that the cat's tail was a metaphor for how I felt: that I wanted to run away from it all, yet every time I tried, I was swung back into the abuse. Finally, she saw that since I was drawn so small, it seemed that's how I felt in life, that I was "a mere ant in a world of giants" and since I was sideways and had no legs (because she wouldn't give me another piece of paper, if she did, I woulda been able to draw myself huge just to show off my friggin' sick Excellence of Execution Bret friggin' 'Hitman' Hart T-shirt!), she thought it meant that I felt paralyzed with fear that I couldn't escape the grasp of my parents' demented ways... She also noticed that I handed it to her upside down, so the thumbs up was actually a thumbs down and I was trying to send her that message. (Or ya know, I slid it across the table to her and because I was facing her, it was upside down?)
I don't really have any clever or funny way of ending this, but I do have this:
For all the shit she claimed to see in my drawings and hear in what I talked with her about, she missed a whole hell of a lot of stuff that would be easy to see if she would sit back and forget her mind-analyzing bullshit. My parents made a lunch for me every single fucking day. My parents packed a snack for me every single fucking day. My parents never missed a parent/teacher conference, never once missed a school play, concert, choir performance, soccer practice, soccer game, baseball practice, baseball game or any other things like that. So after hearing that that ignorant bitch tried to tell them that they were abusive or negligent, all I could do was laugh. And because I have loving, supportive, and amazing parents and family, I am thankful.
As for that guidance counselor, she can go suck eggs... if she doesn't already.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Your biggest fan,
Geoff
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