“What were you thinking? Go to the chair.”
Time out used to be dreadful. I had to sit in a chair, plain and wooden and do nothing. Absolutely nothing. A few times I tried talking to myself, except I always got shushed. As soon as I had entered that space between reality and time out, I became sullen and mad. I never deserved to be there, no matter what my parent’s opinions were. It was never my fault that I threw tantrums. It was never my fault.
The chair was conveniently located in a nook next to a Chinese armoir. The patterns sketched into the wood would be my only source of entertainment. I traced them with my little fingers, waiting until the moment that I could go back and watch tv.
I used to try and fall asleep in the chair, but I was always screamed at. I wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, or enjoying myself.
As a child, I had quite an active imagination, yet every time that veil was infiltrated and my little butt was seated in that chair, my mind went blank.
Tears never helped, nor did threats. I always felt as if my mind was slowly shutting itself off, and I would eventually die of boredom.
“ OK, your five minutes are up, you can leave now.”
Freedom had never tasted so sweet.
2 comments:
My biggest complaint is the choice of including the word "conveniently" and not immediately saying why its convenient (which I don't really get either. like how is it convenient)
I like how you're getting into a child's head but using a standard of vocabulary that is elevated for the age at which time-outs would be shelled out.
However, with an active imagination, I think it should continue in the corner. silently, but it should continue. The mind shouldn't be shutting down, is what I'm getting at.
A few more reads in the coming days.
Hmm...I like where this is going, but I feel like it's lacking something. Although it's a biased assessment, since right now I'm reading The Tin Drum by Gunter Grass, which is similar to this piece. It's written the same way: from the child's point of view, except the child has the mind of an adult (as opposed to an adult looking back on childhood), so everything is strange and almost creepy.
In this piece, I was expecting something along the same lines. Especially since the title is so foreboding, I'm thinking "Maybe for an adult a timeout is utterly mundane, but for a child it's terrifying." There's a setup for something dangerous: electric chairs, standing trial, interrogation, being stripped naked and whipped in the junk James Bond styles...But then it turns out, time out *is* utterly mundane, which I found anticlimactic.
However, ignoring the plot, I really like the voice and the way the child is so self-aware. I feel like he has something very interesting to say, but that the 5 minutes were up before he could get there. I agree with Mike, this needs to continue! :)
Post a Comment