The Mind of Anne

Posts Tagged ‘psychobabble’

November 5th, 2013 The Mind of Anne – from the beginning

Kafue National Park, Zambia

Kafue National Park, Zambia

I know the mind of Anne is at times quirky and the rules of logic often do not apply. Yet I think it’s more of an attitude than a character flaw (or maybe a little bit of both.) I believe my self-awareness started during an incident in Kindergarten.

I went to Kindergarten in Bayonne, NJ and since it was a city public school in the 1960s, we did a lot of coloring. We were given a tin orange juice can filled with broken pieces of crayons and a piece of newsprint paper and off we went to create art. On that fateful day I did my thing and then went off to do whatever we did for the rest of the day. (I was five. I can’t remember what that was.)

Some time passed and my teacher, Mrs. Bonnet, called me up to her desk. She had a very concerned look on her face as she showed me a crayon drawing. There were houses and trees and birds and dogs but up in the sky was a solid black circle. Mrs. Bonnet was clearly agitated as she said, “Anne Marie, why did you color the sun black?” What followed next was a litany of questions trying to get to the bottom of my malady. Was I was having trouble at home? No. What did I eat for breakfast that morning? Cereal. And on and on. (Damn that pop psychobabble.)

I had to think of something to say or I was going to be there forever or so my five-year-old self thought. Frankly, I didn’t even remember drawing the black sun, let alone why. Out of my mouth came, “I didn’t have any yellow crayons.” I could see the relief on her face as she realized I might not be the psychopath she feared I was. But then she said the most disturbing thing, so disturbing that it haunts me all these decades later – “Next time come to me and I’ll give you more crayons so you can draw it RIGHT.”

OMG. I thought my head was going to explode. I didn’t say a word and just went back to my seat. How dare she presume to have the corner market on what was correct when it came to what I wanted to draw. Who did she think she was that she felt comfortable assuming what was going on in my head? Or that she had a right to judge me according to her narrow criteria.

From that moment forward, I chose my own path. My opinions and actions haven’t always been popular but they’ve always been mine. I kind of like the quirkiness.