The Story of B

The Story of “ B “


Once upon a time, not so long ago, a delightful child was born.
   
  There was nothing exceptional about this birth, except the same things
      that make every birth exceptional. Her parents loved her very much,
          and gave her a name which reflected how they felt about their
              delightful, perfect daughter.


Like all delightful, perfect newborns, this child could not say her name
      As she grew from infant to toddler, the name was still difficult for to pronounce.
        This was OK- none of her little toddler friends could
        pronounce it either. In fact, they mutilated the name in all kinds of
          creative ways.

      Her parents, reasoning that the child should have a name by which her
      friends could call her, decided to call her by her initial. So, at age 2 and
        a half, this delightful, perfect child with a name so aptly chosen for her
        at birth was essentially renamed for the convenience of those around
                                                    her.


                          Her new name was simply “B"


B grew and was soon ready to go to school. Her parents hugged her,
                    told her that they loved her, and put her on the bus.

            Once at school, her teacher asked her what her name was. The little
            girl, assuming that her teacher was probably no more articulate than
            her little friends, simply said "My name is B", and she smiled,
            remembering the name her parents had told her the B stood for and
                        how special it was.

The teacher didn't ask why she smiled, or what the B stood for, or
            what the girl would preferred to be called. She simply repeated,
              parrot-like, the single letter given by the child - B -and thought
                                          nothing
                more about the possible background of this unusual name.


          After just a few days of being compared to all the other children in first
            grade, and all the children in last year's first grade, and all the children
              in the 20 or so years of first graders in this teacher’s career, B was
            found to be unique. She didn't color in the lines as she should. She
            She  didn't behave as she should. Though she seemed to be bright enough,
            very bright in fact, she seldom gave the expected and therefore the
                              "right " responses.


          Her teacher decided that the B must have stood for "Bonehead". And
          so, rather than thinking of the girl in a way that showed love, as her
          parents had intended when they named their delightful, perfect
          daughter, the teacher began to treat her according to the name she
          had chosen for the girl:

                                        Bonehead

        By the end of first grade, B suspected that she had somehow been
        "renamed", although she certainly couldn't verbalize such a concept
          and she certainly would not have chosen the same B word for herself
        the her teacher had. In fact, by this time, her parents and even the
        little girl herself had begun to forget what the initial B had stood for in
        the first place. So, when she went to second grade and the teacher
        asked her name, the little girl, without smiling or remembering
        anything more than just the information required to answer the
        immediate question, simply said "My name is B".

      Ahhhh..." the teacher thought. "This is B. This is 'Bonehead"'. And
                    she treated the girl accordingly.
      After a few weeks, this new teacher had her own interpretation of the
      initial. Of course, in the calls to the child's parents, or in the
      conferences with the school psychologists, she still referred to the 
        little girl as B, but she began to treat B in a manner that was
                    consistent with this new, unspoken, name.


                              Borderline


      And so it went...year after year, teacher after teacher, each renaming
              the child according to their own expectations...


                              Bonehead

                              Borderline

                              Bored

                              Burnt

    Finally, one teacher looked into the eyes of this child and saw and even
        deeper meaning of the single letter name. He had no idea of the
            original meaning; he saw only what it had come to mean

                            Beyond Reach.

Parents were called in. Psychologists were summoned. Formed were
                    filled out, signed and implemented.

                            Nothing changed.

        There were more meetings...more plans... more frustration.... more nothing
       
        All of the educational professionals agreed. All of the psych people
        agreed. The Dept of Social Services agreed. This child was
          obviously the victim of emotional abuse. "Bad Parents the
          Professionals said, as if they were scolding a puppy for soiling the rug.
          (Although, to their credit, they never said those hurtful words out loud.)
          "Bad Parents" they said silently, a  loud deafening silent name calling.
          When they finally did speak out loud, they began to "explore" this 
                            abuse.

      "The girl doesn't even have a decent name. No wonder her self-esteem
                              is so low."

        Then, as if they hadn't already decided, each in their own mind,
                              exactly what the B stood for.

          ---Bonehead, Borderline Bored, Beyond Reach, Broken, Bizarre,
                aBused, Busted.....Burnt

        They asked the parents what kind of name was "B" for a little girl.
       
          B's parents looked to the floor. They looked to each other. Together,
                silently, they remembered the birth of their delightful , perfect little girl-
                the little girl they had loved, the  daughter they had named, and  the
                child they had apparently failed, Her Dad wiped away a tear and
                                        spoke.


                      Her name is Beauty





Notes I wrote this using Bob Seay's framework as a writing exercise and to help me cope with my new found diagnosis of ADD

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