Paper Doll Tears

     When I was in the fourth grade my best friend Mary was hospitalized with appendicitis. While all of the other students' paper dolls were moved forward to represent progress in grades and good behavior, hers stayed alone at the starting line. 

      Maybe that's why one day I began to cry and could not stop. "Why are you crying?" My teacher demanded. 

    "I don't know!" I wailed.

    But that wasn't what she wanted to hear apparently. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. "Well, I'll give you something to cry about." Then she wrote "no recess for Emily" in large spindly letters on the chalkboard. 

    Before I burst into fresh tears, I thought I heard a few kids gasp. Later that day, my mom, also a teacher, pulled me aside and scolded me for making my teacher uncomfortable. I was practically ordered not to cry in her class. 

    I learned an important lesson that day, my feelings do not matter. My feelings are too loud, too messy, and far too uncomfortable for others to handle. No one will ever take me seriously if I cry, a sentiment reiterated by my college advisor after she tore into me for being too emotional.

    My feelings don't matter, but other people's feelings about my feelings matter.