I teach the first grade.
I make them go to the bathroom in groups.
One day, a boy told me,
“Ms., someone from sixth grade took a boy to the toilet,
And did bad things to him.”
Studying is something I’ve been used to doing ever since I was young. I feel like something’s missing if I don’t study.
Or I feel unsafe.
Despite this, I actually hate studying!
No matter how much I study, mama always thinks that I’m playing, and that I don’t care about my studies.
She thinks extracurricular student activities, meetings, and conferences are useless!
I stopped going to school at that time.
I didn’t know what harassment was, but there was a rape incident being talked about on TV.
I thought he had raped me.
When I finally found the courage to start going out again, I would hide behind other women in the street.
No one has ever experienced what my father put me through.
It’s such a difficult thing to live through,
When you’re a kid in first grade,
And your father takes you home from school,
And beats you with a spiked rod,
Nails penetrating your entire body.
It was a long walk home,
And I was being beaten up continuously,
blood gushing out of the wounds.
All of this for something I didn’t do.
Something that wasn’t my fault.