There was a buzzing of excitement in the air as the students from the boys’ and girls’ volleyball teams hurried to the bathrooms to change into their uniforms. It is the very first game of the season, and the first game for many of us who have just entered grade 7. Its cold in the bathroom as we get changed. Many of my friends are showing off their new knee pads, and high socks that their parents had bought for the occasion, while I quietly put on the school-provided, yellow-stained ones that have been passed down from year to year.
When we come out of the change room and head to the gym, I am very aware of the fact that all of my friends’ moms are sitting in the bleachers ready to give them a dollar or two to buy a snack. The boys’ teams would play first, so we would have some time to eat and visit with our friends, while our parents visited amongst themselves. I would have to sit with my little sisters because they could not go home without me when my mom was at work. I looked around for my mom, even though I already knew she wouldn’t be there. She worked the day shift at a pharmacy, and then a night shift at the town bar so that she could support my four sisters and I on her own.
When my friends went to the concession I went along. I pretended that my mom had given me money for a snack, and when it was my turn to order I would decide that I wasn’t that hungry, but the lady working in the concession handed me a bag of chips anyways. I was grateful for the treat, but it also made me wonder if the whole town knew about my family’s financial situation. As I sat down with my sisters to wait and share the small bag of chips, I could feel the eyes of the other parents on us. Did they know that I had been given the chips because I couldn’t pay for them? Had they noticed that my mom was not there, nor was she able to attend most of my school activities, and that my sisters were there out of necessity, because at 9 and 5 they could not go home alone?
All of a sudden, I was very aware of the fact that the tattered shorts I wore had been handed down from a parent sitting in the stands, and that she had another daughter, younger than me, that could have used the clothes but wouldn’t be willing to wear hand-me-downs. This, I am sure is confirmation to them that my mom could not afford to buy me my own. I am grateful when the whistle blows and it is time for my team to play. My teacher allows my sisters to be on the bench with us, and for a little while I forget that my peers’ clothes are newer, and their houses are nicer. For a few minutes I get to be 12 and play with my friends.
You’ve left me speechless Nichole. Reading your story took me back a few years and reminded me of some of the kids in my class. I thought I always realized that I was better off than a lot of people but it is really hitting me hard right now. I am the oldest in my family so I never had hand me downs but I use to refuse to wear things that weren’t new. I would wear shirts that were $5 but not ones that were used. you don’t really realize when you are younger the things you say about other people just because they wear the same shirt twice in a row or they always pack a lunch instead of going out. I’ve made fun of my friends for being poor and I laughed about and now it makes me feel sick. I cant imagine what it was like for you because I never experienced it. Your story has made me realize that I take a lot for granted.