A Sprinkle of Psychology

Child Psychology Works on Me

From the first time that I heard that drugs were dangerous, I wanted them. I had a teacher, one of the Dominican nuns at the parochial school that I attended, kindergarten to eighth grade; she told us about having taught night school in NYC. She had students, who would sit in the back row and not remove their sun glasses. I was so impressed, I knew that was cool.

I wondered, “what do they do”? I romanticized these people’s lives. They’re in NYC, wearing sunglasses, inside a building, at night. I knew their existences had to be exotic.

My mind conveniently dismissed the variable, that they were working on a high school diploma.

I always thought the streets were alive and filled with happenings. People in the streets were doing things. I didn’t know what it was they were doing, but I wanted to find out.

All you had to do was tell me that I shouldn’t be there, and that’s where I wanted to go.

That flaw in my character, if that’s what it is, has taken me on many adventures.

My peripheral nature kept me safe, when I didn’t know what the word peripheral meant.

My sister told me that her and my mother stood outside of a music store and admired a violin in the window. (I taught myself to play music at 31; another thing deemed IMPOSSIBLE, by many.)  My mother commented, “She could never play the violin”. My sister replied, “just tell her that she can’t and in six months she will be able to play it”. I guess it’s obvious.

For good or evil, child psychology works on me.