Hi everyone, I don't wanna dwell on bad memories, but I just wanna share one of my worst memories from school.
My brother was in the year above me, we had just finished lunch, everyone knew that we were JW's (not going to assemblies, nativity plays,birthday parties, seen in the field service....) We both walked onto the school field together to the whole school already on the field, stood in a line, clapping and shouting "Jehovahs witness!!" at us, it was absolutely dreadful.
Kids can be cruel...........
Anyone else wanna divulge??
Does that include sharing my bad memories?
And I wasnt even a JW
Any bad memories welcome Logical.
In fifth grade (way before I became a witness) there was a kid quite a bit bigger than me who was a bit of a bully. One day he smarted off at me while we were standing in line, and I called him "Bucky the buck-tooth" and got worked over enough to have both physical and ego damage.
About 14 years later, another brother and I are working the rurals. It's a hot day in east Texas, where the humidity is so bad that you break out in a sweat just stepping out onto your porch. The backs of our shirts are fairly well soaked with sweat as we trudge up a long dirt driveway to where a group of ranch hands are standing around the tailgate of a big dualie 3/4 ton pickup. As we walk up, one of them turns around... it's Bucky the buck-tooth. These guys have a cooler on the back of the pickup with beer iced down in it, and each of them has an open one in his hand.
"Y'all drinkin', or preachin'?" Bucky calls to us.
Lawdymighty, that beer looked good. But we were preaching.
I had a similar experience as you. I had been in field service on Saturday and was forced to talk to a classmate of mine. Of course he had to be one of he most popular in the class. Come Monday morning I was taunted relentlessly by him and all his sidekicks. I still have nightmares about that one. Of course at the time I drew comfort from the scriptures that forsaw this very thing happening.
I was a child, forced to sell books, preach to others and basicaly invade others freedom. Then to stand and defend all of this, still a child at heart, wanting acceptance from my peers. If that is not child abuse I don't know what is.
Child abuse at the worst kind.
I remember trying to explain why I couldn't hang out with a worldly friend after school. Trying to explain worldly associations. He turned and looked at me and said "you're worse the I am".
. o O (slipnslidemaster)
Child abuse at the worst kind.
No, this is not the worse kind of child abuse. I agree that it's hard on the child and unnecessary, and could constitute child abuse depending upon the individual's concept of child abuse.
I am supposing this thread has to do with *bad memories* of WTBTS childhood experiences, so I won't dirty the memories with worse kind of child abuse that are done to children of all denominations in the name of God and father/mother and whoever else is handy.
But there are many things far far worse than this.
I understand and you are correct, there are much worse types of child abuse and I didn't mean to belittle them. I was speaking in hyperbole about the abuse suffered at the hands of the Society.
Even so, there is worse abuses within the organization then just brainwashing and deprivation. Otherwise there would be no need for www.silentlambs.org.
. o O (slipnslidemaster)
No offense, but...You were never in our situation, of being raised a Jw kid. I was never in your situation being abused as you have been by your father. These are not even close to the same types of abuse. But both constitute in my eyes, child abuse of the worst kind.
Logical has even pointed out he was not raised a JW but has bad memories. The one I told was a bad JW memory, I do have others far worse. But I wouldn't want anyone to lose their cornflakes over it. This is not a battle of who has the "worst" memory, just a sharing of past experiences.
In fifth grade we were asked to give an oral report about any subject. I immediately saw my opportunity to give a fine witness. I fantasized about a report so compelling that my teacher and classmates would be begging me for books. My experience would appear on the pages of the Watchtower, and I would step up to the microphone to tell my tale at assemblies. I was 10 years old.
I chose as my subject "Did Man Get Here by Evolution or Creation?" You can guess what I chose as my sole source of information.
When the day came, I presented my report--what I thought were unanswerable arguments in favor of creation. When I had finished, my teacher, Mrs. Robinson, asked the class if there were any questions. "What about cavemen?" Eugene Siler asked. I explained that cavemen were just a hoax. There could not have been cavemen. "What about fossils?" Arla Hyatt asked. "Yeah," piped up Lisa Ridge, "how could so many scientists be wrong?" A floodgate of questions had burst open, and I was drowning. One of my classmates was a JW, even though her family was considered spiritually weak. I looked at her, inwardly begging for some help and support. She casually looked away, as though she had never heard of Jehovah's Witnesses before this moment.
After several minutes of what felt like a verbal lynching, Mrs. Robinson stopped the questioning. I left the room and ran down the hall to the restroom, crying. She found me there and tried to comfort me. I knew I had failed miserably. The ideas were right, I was sure; I had failed to give the right answers, failed to defend my faith properly. I thought Jehovah's spirit would guide me to say the correct things in such circumstances. What had gone so horribly wrong?
Mrs. Robinson left me to wash my face and pull myself together in the dim and dank of the basement restroom. It took me quite awhile. When I stepped out into the hall, I saw my mother walking down the hall. She was at school for my younger sister's parent-teacher conference. She came over and said, "I just bumped into Mrs. Robinson. She said you gave your report and were very upset afterwards. She said your classmates asked you questions that were too hard."
I was the star child at the Kingdom Hall. How could I admit I had crumbled before a class of worldly children? "I don't know where Mrs. Robinson got that idea. I'm just fine. The report went well." I acted very chipper, as though I had no cares in the world except heading outside for recess. My mom looked rather triumphant. It would be like a worldly teacher to falsely report what was really a victory of the Truth over science. She walked on down the hall to my sister's class. She had somehow failed to notice my red eyes and flushed face. I walked outside and sat on a swing alone, twisting back and forth, dragging the toe of my shoe in the dust.