A Ticket to Normalcy

As the academic year 1984-1985 came to a close, I passed the national exam which qualified me to obtain le Certificat d'Etudes Primaires -- a certificate that enables and authorizes pupils to begin their secondary school education. I looked at my report card with a double sense of security and satisfaction. I felt endowed with pride to know that I, too, would be allowed to turn the page to the secondary school chapter of my life. That fortuitous report card represented to me a ticket to freedom, a ticket to normalcy.

It promised freedom from bullies.
It pledged normalcy for my awkwardness.
It signified a departure from things that I thought were best left in the past.
It affirmed my heart's strongest desires to flee the offenders and oppressors of my young life.

Soon, it began to sink into my mind that I was saying goodbye to L'Ecole Primaire Mixte Bethanie and, with it, all the heart-wrenching incidents that constituted my primary school saga. I beamed with pleasure at the thought of spending an entire summer (the first in many years) completely devoid of dread since I was not returning to that undesired, uncomfortable place.

True to its promise, summer 1985 was a delightful respite. My family traveled to the Northwest of Haiti where we vacationed in coastal towns, swam in the clear water of the ocean, savored delicious mangos and other tropical fruits, visited friends and relatives, and relaxed greatly while enjoying each other's company.

Yet, as they say, "All good things must come to an end."

We returned to Port-au-Prince at the end of the summer and turned our attention to the much-needed preparations for the upcoming school year. A trip to the tailor resulted in my getting fitted into a new school uniform. School supplies were bought and financial arrangements were made on my behalf. I looked forward to that first day in secondary school with baited breath . . .

. . . until it finally came.

On that unforgettable October 7, 1985, I walked past the primary school, past the familiar sights, and made my way to Collège Evangelique Maranatha -- the secondary school that would become my educational home for the ensuing seven years. 


I was surprised when the same paralyzing shyness that marked my days in primary school decided to pay me a visit. Though uninvited, it categorically took a firm hold of my being in this new environment. Feeling lost in the sea of over 80 students in my classroom, I felt too timid to sit towards the front where I would more likely be singled out. So, I opted to sit three rows shy of the very back of the room, certain that there I would remain unnoticed.


Why did I not remember that most troublemakers prefer to sit in the back?
Why was I so guided by fear that I would forgo the blessedness and light of the front?
Why did I think that I, with my record of attracting mockers, could ever remain unnoticed?


It did not take long for me to realize how terribly mistaken I was. 
It did not take long for me to realize that my escape to "normalcy" was akin to fleeing the rain of mockery only to take a deep plunge into a river of much more bullying and ridicule than I ever encountered in primary school.


 Father, You are the only sure and blessed hope I have on this journey of love and faith. All the earthly desires, yearnings, and longings that haunt my nights end up failing me at one point or another but You remain constant and dependable through it all. Thank You for being both the ticket and the destination of true normalcy!