"From the worst to the best"

"The child is an intelligent and outstanding student. The only thing is that he talks a lot, and distracts his classmates".

That was a note that was on my fourth grade report card in elementary school. As a child, I didn't have bad behavior or poor student performance, but I was very restless during class. At the time of some homework or test, I was always one of the first to finish, so I would start looking for conversation from others or get up from my desk without the teacher's approval.

Throughout my elementary school it was that same pattern, on the one hand the teachers trying to keep me busy and on the other hand l was looking for a way to always make myself feel in class. I never did anything serious enough to be taken to the principal's office, but all my teachers felt the same way as expressed in the note at the beginning.

My Qualifications? They were good. Thanks to that I got to participate in the "Olympics of mathematics, history and geography", in which we competed with students from other schools.

-Your problem is that you talk too much," was what my sixth grade teacher said to me, in an affectionate tone.

Pixabay by NWimagesbySabrinaEickhoff

That's how I got to high school, and as I got older, my hyperactivity also increased. I was the smallest in the group, so I had to be on guard against constant attacks from my classmates with teasing phrases or funny nicknames. My excessive talking turned into mischief, and little by little I began to commit misdemeanors that merited more than a simple call for attention. I always managed to get away with all these things, until the experience of the ninth year of high school came along.

I remember in the classroom they had the custom that when the teacher left the room, if a student got up and left his bag, someone would grab it and throw it on the floor. The others would step on it and pass it back and forth, until the owner picked it up. On one occasion they did, and just as the bag arrived in front of and I was about to step on it, the teacher came in and saw me, which meant a visit to the management.

-You have your first note in the black book- said the coordinator.

Black book? Yes. It was a book where they wrote down the serious faults of those students with bad behavior. The first was an observation, the second was a warning and the third was the worst: being expelled from the institution. After mentioning this to me, the coordinator advised me to behave well and apply myself to my homework, because she knew that I could be a good student.

That exhortation didn't seem to have any effect on me, so the following week I got into trouble again. It turns out that near the classroom there was a garden, and some little animals were getting into the classroom. I remember that one of my classmates was afraid of those little animals, so since she was a good friend of mine, I grabbed a bachaco and put it on her head. Obviously my friend ran out of the room and I just started laughing.

But that laughter wouldn't last long, because in a matter of minutes my friend came back. With whom? Well, with the coordinator, and in less than two weeks I was already in the director's office for the second time.

-Do you want to be expelled from this institution?- asked the coordinator.

-No!" was the only thing I said.

-If you go on like this, that's what will happen.

And by signing the book for the second time, I was almost sentenced to a possible dismissal from school. How serious could this be? Well, it turned out that those were the first two weeks of classes in that grade, that is, I had practically the whole school year ahead of me, time in which they didn't want to have the slightest complaint about me.

Pixabay by liberty99

Up to this point, my mother did not know anything about what had happened because my representative in that school was one of her sisters-in-law who worked in that institution, only that by then she was on bed rest due to an operation and did not know about my visits to the management room.

I remember that day when I returned home I thought a lot about what I had done, and it scared me to think that I could be expelled from school. I knew that I had to change a lot if I really wanted to continue studying there, and most importantly, I had to improve my behavior.

Little by little I began to concentrate in class and participate more, which I did before but not as consistently. Subjects such as technical drawing, physics, English and mathematics generated more interest on my part, which allowed me to be invited to a math contest, something that reminded me of those experiences in elementary school. I also dedicated more time to sports, specifically soccer, discovering in me that ability and passion that I didn't know before.

It is ironic what I am about to mention, but after several months, one morning the same girl who accused me for the bachaco came to me and said: "Come with me. And right at the entrance of the school, at the main entrance there was an information board, and next to it, the honor roll of the outstanding students in each section for periods (three school months), which gave me the pleasant surprise of seeing myself in second place in my section, which was composed of 58 students.

To tell the truth, I never strived and worked for that, so it was a big surprise for me to be there, among the best students in the whole school. Many classmates congratulated me for that, even my manager, but few knew everything that preceded that achievement. At that moment I felt I had gone from the worst to the best, and from an expulsion I went to the honor roll.

At the end of ninth grade, I felt a great relief. I was no longer afraid of being expelled, and I admit that I learned my lesson. I certainly didn't make the honor roll again, but I improved my behavior and responsibility so much that I never went through anything like that again. An occasional prank, but nothing that resulted in a visit to the principal's office.

When I graduated as a high school graduate, the day of my graduation was very special, and that was highlighted even with laughter and tears when I received my diploma. Who gave it to me? The coordinator! And she did it with a phrase that I will never forget:

"Today the naughtiest student I have ever known is leaving us. I love you very much".

Pixabay by jump1987

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THE END