My mother took the time to prepare me mentally to deal with the physical aspect of her death. As a result, when everyone in my family was all broken up, searching for answers and means of dealing with my mother’s death; I had a very interesting prospective of mother’s death. My attitude, my reply to question about mother’s death, even my conduct at the funeral, was not in keeping with the solemnity that was expected and associated with death.
I was very casual and although my behavior and answers to questions met the common but unpracticed beliefs about what death is, and the manner family and friends should behaved at the death of a love one; everyone, though I did not understand what had happened. I could hear family members, family friends and other members of the community saying, poor child he just don’t understand. Interestingly, Mother told me to expect everyone to say the things that was being said; so I was fine with their remarks, which I ignored.
Of course, I understood what death was, I understood that it was the last time I will ever see my mother as I knew her, I understood that she will be buried and the decomposition process. My mother took the time to put death; especially her death into prospective for me. Of all of her children, I was the youngest; therefore, knowing she was going to die, she was most worried about me, and daily; Mother took the time to prepare me for her death.
She know that as a child, I was an idealist, I was also too trusting, and she knew that I may not be able to deal with her death and therefore spent a lot of time to shape my perception of death especially her death.
Although my mother’s efforts was instrumental in making sure I was prepared to deal with her death and understood what death was, She could not see far enough into the future, and therefore was unable to adequately prepare me, to deal with life without her presence. Although I was prepared to and was able to deal with the physical aspects of death, and all of the things that was expected when one die; it was her absence that really toppled my world.
Some of the singes that made it evident that something was wrong, and therefore alerted my family that something was desperately wrong was; I no longer enjoyed and no longer wanted to go to church, I did everything in my power to avoid going to church. It took a while but very soon it became a full time job to get me to go to church. I did not hate Jesus of his father; however, going to church was no longer fun. The second thing was, my schooling suffered, I slid to the bottom of the class.
I fell into a daze, and I just could not get out of it. Everything fell apart and they all lost its value. I no longer knew why I was doing all the things that I was required to do and I did not see why I should do them. Before that, I did them because it was fun, I was contented, I had a child's perfect world my mother and my father, big brothers and big sisters and being the last one I was the center of all their attention and affection. But then, the prolong absence of my mother changed it all. I did not knew what it was like to miss someone; So when I was asked, I always replied no. However, I fell down in every aspect of my life; my ability to read declined; and my attention span also declined; as well as my ability to interact with others.
My family, with their limited knowledge of what was happening to me, took every step to see if they could help me. There effort ranged from the purchase of things, a child my age may want, they also thought there was a problem with the school, so I change school, It was also suggested and I was taken to the eye specialist, to have my eyes examine. It was thought, I may have had a problem with my vision, which a glasses may correct, and therefore help me overcome my reading obstacle.
They did not want to take any chances; Dr. Cyrus had opened his hospital, In St. Vincent and the Grenadines and to the locals Dr. Cyrus was the best at everything. According to my family, if there is anything wrong, the only person who could figure it out and deal with it, was Dr. Cyrus and he was also an eye specialist (etymologist).
Keeping the appointment to see the preeminent doctor; My sister explained what was wrong, then Dr. Cyrus examined my eyes, he discovered, that one of my eye was 20-20 vision and he discovered that the other eye had extremely good vision which may be better than 20-10 vision, unfortunately the standard chart was limited to the examining up to 20-10 vision. The difference in the vision in his eyes, should not affect his ability to read he declare. This declaration put us back to square one. There was no solution to my academic problems.
It was suggested to my father that I may have some form of retardation, but he was not hearing it. I was now enrolled in the Kingstown Preparatory (Prep) School, and all I wanted was to be left alone. A good day at school was; when I was not required to participate publicly in the class. I developed a system that saw me barely passing on the final exams and ensure that I moved from grade to grade as was required. I developed a good memory, and I remembered most of what was said in the class along with paying attention and remembering the answers to the questions I got wrong in the test. As a result, when it was most important, I managed to pass the promotion exams.
I refrained from voluntarily answering questions that was asked in the class, even those questions I knew the answer to. This was my way not to bring any unwanted attention to myself in the class; as a result, most of the teacher though that I my presence was just a waste of space, and they ignored me, which was what I wanted.
One day, the class teacher while teaching science, asked a question, no one that she asked to answer the question knew the answer. Then she began to call upon the more brighter of the students; after exhausting all her options, she got angry and began to lament, I am wasting my time in this class; she began to speak of what she was going to do. If she was going to do as she say, that mean, I will be required to participate. I could not have that. I put up my hands. And she said in an angry tone. Palmer what do you want?
I said I want to answer the question; the teacher sulked; tensing her face and sucking back her lips, while rolling her eyes, as if to say, yeah right! If the others cannot answer the question how can you. However, in disgust and expecting some foolish answer; she said what is the answer. After I answer the question she looked at me with a strange look on her face. I did not know what to make of her facial expression; then she exclaimed that is the correct answer; she still had that funny look on her face; she was not please with the occurrence.
When she rarely realized what have happened she asked, Palmer how do you knew the answer to a question that no one else in the class knew the answer? I answered: I don’t know I just know the answer. The teacher immediately left the class and return to the staff-room and she did not return to the class until after the lunch period. We had about two hours of free time, everyone was happy just for the opportunity to do nothing but to talk; we even switch seats because we were totally unsupervised. Some of my classmates said Palmer you must answer more question and we will get more free time.
I was due to write the national Common Entrance exams in 1979, but I did not get the opportunity to write the secondary school placement exam. This was so, because my father saw it fit to send my sister and I to Trinidad and Tobago to escape the danger of the erupting La Soufriere volcano. Three months later, when my sister Andrea and I return to St. Vincent and the Grenadines, the Common Entrance exam; the exams that determined if a child was going to a secondary school or not was done and all the children knew which school they were going to attend. There were a few schools that had an entrance exam, like the Emanuel High Schools Kingstown and Mesopotamia as well as the Intermediate High School also knows as Timmy School.
By this time, all of the school with entrance exams had already held their entrance test and already made their selection. By big brother Albert who was a pass student of the Intermediate High School and who was a teacher and who knew the value of an education went and spoke to Mr. Timmy Richards; after whom the community called the school. He explained the circumstances of my situation and one teacher to another asked if he can make an exception and allow me to take the test even if the time has pass. Mr. Richards decided to do my brother whom he had taught and who was a model student in his school a favor.
My academics did not improve, not even my brother Albert who had developed a reputation in reaching hard to reach children was able to reach and help me. However, by this time, I have stop reading except for the fact, my father said he was unable to find his glasses, and therefore needed me to read various things to him. On Friday however, I had a paid assignment. I was required to read the weekly newspaper to him; after which, he paid me twenty five cent or more depending.
Daddy knew of my reading problem and was trying to get me into the habit of reading, I will mumble over the words as he sat there listening to me bumping into invisible obstacles. After which he will give me twenty. However, in High School, I still used the system I developed and used in primary school; the system that helped me to pass just when it meant the most; at final exams; which resulted in promotions. I just barely managed not to be thrown out of school.
Apart from all of my academic difficulties, I had some bright spots. There was a shapely teacher by the name of Mrs. Williams who got my attention. Mr. Williams was a science teacher; I always did well in her class. And then there was Ms. Kirby, the daughter of the well-known Pharmacist Kirby who operated a pharmacy in the capital city of Kingstown. At that stage of my life, this young women who was responsible for preparing me academically was the most beautiful woman I have every laid eye on.
The first time I lay my eyes on Ms. Kirby, she was a student, fresh out of Girls High School, a teacher with the responsibility for teaching the business subject commerce. I have never seen this lady before she came to teach at the school and immediately; I fell in love. There was no way I was ever going to fail the subject she was responsible for providing instructions. I can still hear Ms. Kirby’s melodious voice, explaining the then complex law of Diminishing Returns. She only had to say it once and I got the concept. I only understood the concept because it was coming from the most beautiful woman God had created.
All this time, I was trying to drop out of school, but My Sister Clare was not having it. She had invested lots of money and time in my life since my mother died. And she wanted the best for me and in her opinion there is nothing like an education. She insisted that I go to school and out of respect for her and all that she had done for me I reluctantly complied. She knew better and she used rational in keeping me in school.
One day during assemble, Mr. Richards the principal of the Intermediate High school had and made a big announcement. Like a professional sport team owner today, he made a big acquisition. He managed to lure a prominent, experience English teacher by the name of Mr. Lewis to join his staff. He said, Mr. Lewis was at home doing nothing all that talent was just being wasted.
Mr. Lewis was the type of the teacher who held his students responsible and accountable. He wanted maximum participation from each student and expects to see results; some type of improvement from every student. I was in big trouble, this was the type of teacher I spend my whole life resenting. In the pass, I burn the other teacher out and after a while, they just ignored me. Mr. Lewis was relentless in his pursuit to get me involved, he held me accountable and responsible for assignments and my academic development. There was never a day, I did not have an encounter with Mr. Lewis.
I did not do homework when it was given, I did not revised for test, and I did not take anything that was taught in the class serious, unless it was being taught by Mrs. Williams or Ms. Kirby. After Mr. Lewis started becoming overbearing, I took some time and I did my homework. Mr. Lewis made a big deal in front of the class. He said class Palmer actually did his homework assignment. Then he said to me: "Palmer; you see what you can do when you apply yourself." He continue: "you can actually do the work but for some reason you do not apply yourself.
It was not too long that I went back to my old ways; however, Mr. Lewis was not taking my in activity lying down. I just could not see what Mr. Lewis was making this big a problem of. No one else has ever made all this fuss before. I thing this man just don’t like me, I concluded. Each day I had to mentally prepare to deal with Mr. Lewis. Mr. Lewis needed to know, we were making an academic effort, even when we were not in school and homework was his evidence of that. Every day it was a constant battle between Mr. Lewis and I. Mr. Lewis tried everything in his power in order to get me to apply myself academically, but nothing he tried worked.
In his never ending battle to get student participation in the class, Mr. Lewis said: "from today, I whenever we are reviewing a story, I am going to have everyone reading out loud. I said to myself, this man is really out to get me. I have not yet overcome my vision problem and therefore did not read much; I was an extremely poor reader. The next day Mr. Lewis began his new student participation exercise. I was happy, because he started at the back; I prayed that by the time he reached to me, the time that was allotted for the class period would have ran out. And everything was going good. There were people with different level of reading skills, in the class.
Then it came to my turn, I became nervous, my palm sweat as I began, I began to chew up the over words, as stumble through the selected passage of literature. At the end, Mr. Lewis said, in a serious authoritative tone “Do you call that reading? How did you make it this far in school reading like that? I have a nine year old son at home, who reads much better than you!" I was totally embarrassed, but I played it off, after all, it was not the first time I have heard those sentiments.
I became fascinated by my sister Andrea's newly developed penmanship, and she took the time to teach me how to improve my hand writing. She said, it will not happen over knight, it takes time, but after a while, it will come natural. Each day I practiced with the objective of improving my penmanship. One of Andrea's instructions was simple, she advised me to get a book and start writing the words; she further said, I had to take my time writing the words exactly as they appear in the book. I wanted to improve my hand writing, as a result, I follow her instructions. Before I knew it, I had a beautiful hand writing. When I write all of the letters were all the same size, they were well formed and they had fancy hooks and curves.
There was also an added perk; without realizing it, by copying large volumes of words from different books, I began to relearn a skill I did naturally before my mother’s death; a skill that the average person never had to worry about. I began to retrain my eyes to focus in harmony on organized words. My father was the first to notice there was a change in my reading. He said “your reading is improving,” I did not even notice that I was reading better even though the focus problem persisted, I began to get some level of control over reconciling both eyes to the task of reading.
By this time, I have left school after a serious conversation with My sister Clare, promising her that I will continue my secondary schooling by going to evening classed. Clare reluctantly said, I cannot give you permission to drop out of school, if you choose to stop going to school that have to be your decision and it will be your lost.
I had stopped reading the newspaper for my father and he stopped asking me to. He found his glasses which he claimed, was lost and he began to read the paper for himself, as he did before the mysterious disappearance of his reading glasses. I will volunteer to read the paper for my father when I wanted something from him.
One Friday afternoon, while I was reading the weekend Newspaper to my father, I saw a well written letter to the editor, at the bottom to the letter the name Aubrey Burgin appeared as the writer. I knew this fellow; I said to myself, we are friend and my sister Andrea was dating his brother Elliot. I did not know regular people can write in the newspaper. I always had an opinion and I wanted to be heard. So I took my time and I penned a letter to the editor of the Vincentian Newspaper Ms. Nora Peacock. At that time, The Vincentian newspaper was the more popular of the two newspapers on the island; the other one being the Star Newspaper.
I was all excited when I saw my letter appeared in the Vincentian Newspaper, I did not have to tell anyone about my accomplishment, for it seems that everyone saw it. At that time reading was the most fashionable form of entertainment and the newspaper was read by everyone. Back then, one newspaper moved from house to house in the same way Santa Clause was believed to have done, each year on the night before Christmas.
About a year or so after leaving school, I return to the Intermediate High School for proof that I attended the school; and evidence that I had attained form four. I need this in order to gain employment with the vector control unit. I did not care to see any of the teachers, except for Ms. Richards who was always respectful and kind to all of the students. I certainly did not want to see Mr. Lewis and I was sure that he did not want to see me either; was I wrong.
I was waiting in the small corridor outside, Mr. Richard’s office, which was also the main entrance into the staff room. While I was in the corridor waiting, I saw Mr. Lewis sitting at his desk, reading as usual, or maybe he was devising some way of making some helpless student life a living hell. My efforts to remain conceal from Mr. Lewis failed, when he heard my voice speaking to someone in the corridor, where I was standing with some students who were defaulters and were probably awaiting Mr. Richards attention; most likely they were to be flogged. Mr. Lewis quickly lifted up his head, taking his attention from that which he was so keenly focused upon, and then he laid eyes on me. He focused, to ensure he was seeing correctly; after which, a big commotion erupted in the staff-room.
Mr. Lewis got up from where he was comfortably seated at his desk and he began to shout at the top of his voice “there he is, there he is” he said. I began to look around to see who he was speaking to, by this time the students recognizing that Mr. Lewis was speaking to me, they all shifted away from me, not wanting to be implicated in whatever I have gotten myself into. I said to myself, Lord have Mercy! I have left this school more than a year ago, and he is still having problems with me; I searched my mind to see how I could have offended this man in the pass year of so; but I could not find an incident that could have provoked his anger.
Mr. Lewis quickly grabbed a fold up piece of paper from his desk and began to wave the piece of raggedy paper in the air somewhat over his head in his left hand; as if to be directing the attention of everyone to that which he was holding in his hand; while he shouted at me. His tone was not one of anger; but more one of frustration. I looked at Mr. Lewis as he made his way nearer to where I was standing, still waving the paper around and still shouting the same three words. I whispered to the students who were now looking at me strangely and with some measure of relief that they were not the center of this kind of attention. “I hope he realized that I am no longer a student here.”
By this time, Mr. Lewis had the attention of the entire staff-room; he also had the attention of the defaulters who were awaiting their flogging; as well as, those students who were in the yard. He walked down aisle of the staff room as the other members of the staff that occupied the teacher office with him followed his movements with their eyes, while others turn in their chair following his movement along the narrow aisle of the staff-room curious as to what the whole commotion was about. When Mr. Lewis got about three quarters away down the passage way to one of the teachers who knew me, he stood up at her desk and violently slammed the fold up piece of what appeared to be a newspaper, which was neatly fold to a particular area onto her desk and declared. There he is, I knew this child is a brilliant child, I knew he had it in him to produced good work, I tried all I could to get this guy to apply himself and he never made an effort while he was a student here.
Take a look at this, he said pausing only to take a breath of air before he continued, he is now writing in the newspapers. Look at the quality of his writing, I knew he had it in him but I just could not get through to him. He look at me he said it is a good article and he encourage me to continue to write, then he retraced his steps back to where he was sitting, and went back to what he was doing; leaving the shabby newspaper on the desk before the teacher who then took up the shabby newspaper and began to read the article. I watch her as she raising her brow with surprise as she read.
I felt good to be recognized and to be complemented by Mr. Lewis. All this time, I thought Mr. Lewis hated me; however, he recognized the abilities I had and he tried to get me to apply myself, so I could have develop that which I did not know I possessed.
Today I have encountered another Mr. Lewis on Facebook. When he read my post, articles and he sees some common error, he will shoot me an inbox, "Palmer pay attention to your writing you may lose the meaning of the thought you are conveying." He will direct my attention to the error, which I will correct. I take this time to publicly say thanks to My Regimental Sergeant Major in the cadet force: Dr. Alwayn Leacock. As simple and as infrequent as Dr. Leacock took the time to hold me grammatically accountable, I have used his actions, to developed an accountability on my own; and in the process I recently developed a love and an appreciation for a practice I once hated: that is the practice of consistently reading over my writing until I am totally satisfied with the end product.
Previously; I only took the time to read over random paragraphs, and edit the particular paragraph. In my lazy mind the odds were with me but they were against me. For I learn that there is only one way to edit or to proof read writing and that is to take it line by line and when you are finished do it again and again. As a result, I can see my writing is getting better every day but I have a long way to go.
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