I don't know if I have actually shared the whole story of my abuse. Sometimes, it seems to me that what happened to me is minor compared to what happened to others. However, I also know that it has affected me a great deal.
Please be kind:
Growing up, I was the family scapegoat. Whenever anything went wrong, it was always my fault. My older sister could do no wrong. and I could do no right. As a result, I was looking for approval from anyone I could find to give it to me. I also ended up the scapegoat at school. When something went wrong and no one knew who did it, I ended up with the blame. After a while, I started taking blame for things that I knew weren't my fault.
When I was in 3rd grade, Mr. Schmidt was my teacher. He was my teacher through 6th grade. Mr. S was a very athletic type man who instituted sports and actual physical education to our school. The school was one where corporal punishment was not only tolerated, but encouraged.
Being a needy child, I wanted desperately for Mr. S to like me. Only, I wasn't very athletic. I was clumsy and uncoordinated. I also tended to talk a lot. I think I was looking for attention. By the middle of 3rd grade, he had nicknamed me "Mouth." He would rarely use my name, just call me Mouth. It was sometime during that time when I started getting paddled. At first, it was usually because I deserved it, but after I while, it became something different
When 4th grade ended, I hoped that would be the end of Mr. S. However, he moved up to 5th and 6th grade and I ended up having him two more years. Pretty soon during the school year, the beatings became rather regular. I would show up for school before anyone else, and he'd offer to paddle me right then. After all, he said we both knew I would deserve on during the day anyway.
When I told my parents that I was getting abused, they didn't beliieve me and punished me for lying. Since they weren't going to believe me, I quit telling them. So the paddlings continued.
In 6th grade, I joined the basketball team. I wasn't really good, but tried really hard to get Mr. S. to like me. Because I didn't feel good about myself, i usually changed away from the other kids One night, after practice, he came over to where I was changing and asked me what was wrong with me. He must have asked me several times. Then he grabbed my shorts and jock and pulled them to my knees. Then he grabbed my balls and squeezed. He asked again, what's wrong with you....then when he let go of my balls, he said, 'Oh, I see what the problem is."
I was absolutely humiliated. I believe that I quit basketball after that. What was so horrible was that my parents thought the world of this guy. They would invite him over for dinner. I was almost sick to my stomach. I began to hate school. My grades suffered and it only caused more trouble both at home and at school.
Mr. S. convinced my parents that what I really needed is to become more athletic, more physically fit. He offered to let me hang out with him on Saturday mornings. The plan was to teach me to use the punching bag, do some exercises and make a man out of me. One Saturday, I was just having a terrible time with the punching bag. Mr. S was upset and angry with me. He started telling because I just couldn't hit the bag properly.
I got upset and started crying. That's when he blew a gasket. He started hollering at me and telling me that crying was for girls and I should just stop. He backed me into a corner and then grabbed me and pulled/dragged me to the closet where the gym mats were stored. He shoved me in there, crying, and locked the door behind him.
He was screaming and swearing and started hitting the punching bag like there was no tomorrow. I was absolutely terrified. It seemed like forever waiting for him to let me out of the closet. Suddenly it got very quiet. I started crying again softly. Then the door slammed open. He was raging. Asking me what's wrong with me. I started crying and it made him even madder. He said crying was for girls. And if I wanted to be treated like a girl, he'd show me how a girl deserved to be treated.
The next thing I know, I am face down on my stomach over the rolled up gym mats. He pulls down my shorts and suddenly I felt this horrible tearing and burning pain in my behind. I stayed quiet, not wanting to get him any angrier. It was over almost as quick as it started. He walked out and left me there in the closet. As soon as I composed myself, I ran out the side door and all the way home.
I never told anyone about what happened because I knew they would never believe me. They didn't believe me about the beatings, why would they believe me about this? Fortunately, when 7th grade started, I had a different teacher, even for PE and didn't join sports and managed to not deal with Mr. S again. I think he left after my 7th grade year.