Monday, March 17, 2014

Reading Stuff

One of the activities I hated most while in grade school was reading out loud.
Regardless of the approach the teacher chose to take-- going down the rows of students, alphabetical order off the roster, or just picking names at random-- it made my heart pound, my hands sweat, my vision blur, and my body shake. The anticipation would fuck me up.

The method that upset me most was the random choosing... it was my version of Russian roulette.
This fear wasn't due to me being a poor reader, quite the contrary, I always read at a higher level than most kids. I feared the reaction from my peers. I feared fucking up a word. I feared catching the sound of someone snickering at a mispronunciation. I hated the sound of my voice (for some students, this would be the only time they'd hear a peep out of me). I hated the uncertainty of the length of time this torture would last.
I remember many teachers gave me more "reading time" than what I thought to be normal. Some of my peers would be given a sentence or two to read out loud... and I remember myself getting lightheaded upon noticing I was about to start on my third paragraph of reading.
Fuck... am I really this shitty at reading and need this much practice? What the fuck? When is this going to end... ? I just want it to end. 

I never grew comfortable with this activity. Ever.

My mom? My mom loves this shit... reading out loud, that is. Everything she does, she does out loud. Thinking? Out loud. Counting? Out loud. Reading? Out loud.
She's a... lector? Lecturer? at church. I've been sitting through services with Mom as the reader ever since I was about nine years old.
Random strangers go up to Mom at public places and greet her as though she's family... never fail to say something like "I LOVE how you read at St. Anne's!" She's like a spanish Catholic Mass celebrity.

Yesterday, I mentioned to Mom how my Mexico City friend gave me a tiny psalm card... no, that's not what it's called... a Prayer Card? It's like a poker card, with one side depicting a saint of your choice, and on the back, a certain prayer associated with the saint... so he or she can intercede for you like saints are believed to do. You take this card and pray, obviously.
I'm not much of the praying type. When I do pray, it's usually because I'm inexplicably frightened awake, or unable to go to sleep. It's a good pacifier.
Anyway, so I tell my mom about this card my friend gave me, and how I feel it has actually done what it was "supposed" to. I told her to read it, and see if she agreed with me (it asks for help in pacifying one's mind, and restless soul. Clearly I've been suffering from that shit for too long, ya feel me?).
Mom: I don't have my glasses. I'm tired. Just read it out loud to me.
Me: This is a trick. You just don't believe I still remember how to read in spanish, do you?
Mom: Just read it or I leave.
So I read the card out loud.
I stumbled into the part that has always bugged me, due to a grammatical error (it's missing a comma and that shit drives me bananas), and looked up at mom's face to complain about how the fucking comma was missing and tripped me up.
Me: You're crying! What the hell, lady?
Mom: Keep reading.
I kept reading, occasionally looking up to throw Mom a crazy stare, and finally finished the prayer.
Mom: You read so pretty! You have such a pretty voice, baby!
Me: Ew Mom... quit being creepy, weirdo.
Mom: I didn't know you had such a pretty reading voice!
Me: Ummm... no. I sound like a man. Had you never heard me read before?
Mom: No! Never! I've heard your brother and your sister, but never you, ever.

The woman was so emotional and stoked-- crying like a total weirdo. I felt it necessary to tap her on the forehead and call her a weirdo one more time.

I'm just a quiet girl who likes to live her wallflower life without catching the attention of anyone for anything.
That's really hard to do with this woman over here acting like I'm William Jennings Bryan or some shit.

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