Marie Moldovan

My name is Marie Moldovan. I am Canadian armed forces veteran. MOTHER. Artist. Born and raised in Canada. I grew up in a poverty-stricken home, and experienced many hardships (including losses) throughout my life. I have experienced everything from riches to homelessness and yet, keep on keeping on, so I may share my story and hopefully inspire. 

“Idiot”

  When I was but six years old my teacher,
 A dreadful creature,
 Hiding behind twenty layers of caked-on make-up.
 Attempting to represent a label standard,
 Of prim and proper, called a meeting with my mommy.
 
 She claimed to have great concern,
 Over my accused inability to learn,
 Over my ‘insensibility to normal education’,
 Suggested I be held a year,
 And declared me mentally below average capacity,
 Designated me not a 'pathological child’ but a blatant "idiot.”
 
 According to Mrs. “Prim and Proper”,
 My only chance at success was through 'special' ed.
 
 Being privy to every word, I nearly cried and could not
 understand why my teacher told such lies.
 
 My mother's face cringed in anger and frustration,
 As if a coven of red roses had garnished her cheeks as
 They became colored with a bit of embarrassed crimson.
 
 As Madam Prissy Pants continued her rant
 Deeming me incapable of functioning like a normal child,
 Suggesting my mother plan my long-term care,
 And toss in the air
 Any hopes of me reaching graduation.
 
 The opinionated "prim and proper,"
 Nattered and yattered like a fool for a while.
 I found myself imagining her a puppet with strings,
 Bouncing her, 80’s style, “fan-banged” BOBBLY head
 From side to side on her excessively padded shoulders.
 I giggled at my imagination, and
 Cried at the situation.
 
 Unable to accept the words of Mrs. Prissy,
 My mother did mutter "my daughter is not an idiot.
 She is brilliant in fact, and I am extremely confused
 As to why it took you till the end of the year
 To bring her struggles to my attention”.
 
 As if in a state of cognitive dissonance,
 My mother did refuse to accept for me the "IDIOT" label,
 And went on to prove a "mother knows best”.
 It turned out she was right. Who would have guessed,
 I neglected the capacity to "SEE"?
 I wasn't a child in need of an institution.
 I was merely in a situation of needing glasses.
 A far cry from the claimed "idiot" constitution.
 
 In the end Mrs. Priss lost her job,
 For my mother did prove a case of a neglectful teacher
 Whom bullied and targeted a minor with daily vigor.
 To be honest I'm not sure how one such as me could have
 Advanced positioned in the hallway each and every day - for
 holes in my socks and the knees of my jeans.
 Mrs. Priss’ tales of my folly and blatant "idiocy" did neglect
 The very fact that she banned me from class - for
 Wearing pants that would later be sought after fashion and
 Socks that could be darned or sown into maskery protection.
 
 How dare Mrs. Priss segregate me based on class.
 Attempt to imprint in my mind that unless a child of poverty
 Could master illusion -- present in costume; don a mask of
 Monetary class -- then one does not deserve the right to learn
 Outside her indoctrination.
 
 Sometimes I wonder if Mrs. Priss was right and
 I've only managed--even magically manifested -- the illusionary
 Mask of intelligence, through a simple game of copycat.
 Alas, what does a traumatized mind truly know?
  
  
   

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