Scintilla 2: Lies I Told My Teacher
Prompt: What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told? Why? Would you tell the truth now, if you could?
(This is not the biggest lie I’ve ever told, but I wasn’t quite in a good emotional spot to write eloquently about the lie of being happily married so here is the story of the time I can first remember ever lying).
When you’re in first grade, you’ll say or do anything to be the cool kid in the class.
Some kids had it easy- they had pools with diving boards or slides, their parents drove a nice car, or they were somehow related to the one or two ‘famous’ people who were originally from Somerset.
In first grade, I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was already taller than most of the kids my age and was more interested in reading books way ahead of my age level just because I was so desperate to feed my curious mind.
It seemed so innocent at the time. We were learning about puppets in music and art class because there was going to be a school assembly with a ventriloquist at the end of the week. To a class full of seven years old, this and magic are the coolest things ever. In all the talking about it being a super special talent and skill that few people can do, I raised my hand in class, desperate to be the cool kid.
“Mrs. Kozak, my dad is a ventriloquist.”
“Oh really, Kristen? Does he have his own puppets?”
“Yes and sometimes he lets me use them.”
At this point, I think Mrs. Kozak moved the topic onto something else and I was happy as a clam to have the kids on the playground asking me about my cool dad the ventriloquist.
That night, after dinner, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Kozak calling for my father. After he hung up he said, “Kristen, why did you tell Mrs. Kozak I was a ventriloquist?” I don’t remember what my reaction was or if I was punished in some way for making up a story. Mrs. Kozak of course knew that it wasn’t true when I said it in the class, and perhaps she was calling my parents to just tell them I told a little fib. It seems silly and harmless now, and something kids do all the time ( I think my brother told his second grade teacher his grandmother was an American Indian or that we had ancestors at the first Thanksgiving).
I’d like to think it was just the beginning of my creative mind and love of storytelling.