Not So Secret Admirer

   
     I supposed I fancied myself as some little fairy godmother or a bespectacled guardian angel. Even though my attempts to do good were usually bungled, my motives were sincere. In 1969 I had brown hair and crooked pigtails every day and my closet was full of plaid jumpers that were always paired with pastel blouses that had dainty peter pan collars. I wore brown glasses to correct my amblyopia and the left lens was noticeably thicker than the right. I was a piece of work.

     My 5th grade classmates were the same as 4th, 3rd, 2nd and 1st.  I had gone to school with the same group of kids since kindergarten. There wasn't much change at Bunker Hill Elementary School. Our classes celebrated all the holidays with parties and homemade treats. I don't ever remember peanut allergies or gluten intolerance being an issue, but I do remember the horror of Valentine's Day and how I would feel so sorry for the kids who got fewer cards dropped into their brightly decorated paper bags.

     There was one boy in particular who bore the brunt of most teasing. He was a notorious nose picker and had less fashion sense than me. I never picked on him. I'm not sure where my empathetic gene came from but to this day I am bothered by cruel practical jokes and sarcasm.

     On this particular Valentine's Day I thought it would be a good idea to make him feel like someone cared. I signed my name to most of the store bought cards but, on his, I used my mom's electric typewriter and wrote the words "From Your Secret Admirer." It was a masterful plan and I was thrilled that my actions would give the boy a smile. Now, I really wasn't his secret admirer. I had no crush on him. I thought his nose picking was disgusting but, ever the wanna be psychologist, I attributed his nasty habit to poor parenting. (I was the child who pored over my sister's college psych books so I could find out what my parents were doing wrong. I like to think I did most of my raising myself.)

     The great flaw in my plan occurred when I neglected to get up from the old IBM Selectric typewriter and I lazily went ahead and typed my name, rather than writing it, onto the remaining couple of Valentine cards. It doesn't take a middle schooler to figure out what happened next. The classroom was on a sugar high. Envelopes were ripped open and thrown to the linoleum floor and each 5th grade recipient eagerly read their cards and turned them over to see who had signed them. In no time at all, the most picked on boy in school was waving his little card from his secret admirer. All the boys and girls buzzed and chattered and tried to figure out who she was.

     I sat proud and smug...until the smartest boy in class opened up his card from me...and I had typed my name.  He was now sitting proud and smug after putting two and two together. As I said, my intentions may have been bungled but they were very, very good. Those good intentions don't mean much during a 5th grade scandal. In no time at all I was known as the girl who had the big crush on the most picked on boy in school. The teasing only lasted a week or so but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst part was a boy finding out that he didn't really have a secret admirer after all.

     Life lessons are hard albeit some can be quite funny in retrospect. I still carry my biggest life lesson from the 5th grade debacle deep within my heart. If I have raised my own children to follow this mantra than I will consider my parenting a success: Never be afraid to publicly declare your support, your love and your compassion for those less fortunate and less understood. When all is said and done you will know that doing the right thing for all to see is always the right action. If only my little 5th grade self had known that.