Bitácora personal

NOTE: I wrote this about 25 years ago (and today is 4 April 2012). I took an English grammar class while I worked at The Chicago Public Library. The class was at the Chicago Community College but I can’t remember the name of the teacher. He was a good teacher and I enjoyed the class.
This piece will be transcribed here with the few corrections the professor did, not many though, and he gave me an A+ for this work. At the end, the note is from the teacher.
The transcription is not from a printout, it was done by hand.

Remeberance [I know is misspelled but that it is what is in the original paper]

I grew up in a family of four sisters, a stepfather, a mother, and a grandmother. We all lived together in a big concrete house with four bedrooms, a huge dining room-kitchen, and a big yard to play. I really do not remember too much about my childhood probably because all the sad things that happen to me or by a mental block I unconsciously built up. Like almost everybody else, my family was as normal ad they can be. Of course, there are exceptions. My mother’s mother lived with us, and she is still living with my mother today. She was always overprotecting and pampering me. The reason, I guess, is because I am the only boy in the family.

Being the only male figure in a family where females are predominant is not easy. the other male figure was my stepfather who was not always at home and never took care to play or to teach me what a boy should do or should do not. Therefore, all the models I has were my sisters and my mother. I played with my sisters most of the time. I also played with neighbors and friends. Even though I played outside with other male friends, I had to play more inside the house because I was a very sickly boy. At home, I used to play with my sisters’ board games, and even designed dresses for paper dolls. Oh! we had a lot of fun cutting and painting paper dresses. When I started taking conscience of many things, I then tried to imitate male roles and tried to stick around the boys more often. I joined the Boy Scouts, I went camping, I rode my bike in exploring trips with other friends, etc., but I had to stay home because illness or because my so called friends teased me to the point I could not take it anymore. I tried to the the best I could.

a growing child needs the help of a father. In my case, I grew up with my stepfather. A lot of children that grow up with their stepfathers have wonderful childhood, and they are proud of their stepfathers. My stepfather never took me to a baseball game, he never played with me or even had nice things to say to me. Sometimes he was the first one to teased me and even to say: “You sissy, help me to do this.” Oh! I would bet so aggravated that I just finished helping him or burst in tears. I really do not bear malice to his memory, I just ignore or assume that it never happen and put away in my memory all those unhappy things.

As every child we were punished and rewarded. Every time we did something wrong we were punished. One of my favorite punishments was when we were told to stay home, in other words, grounded for x period of time. this type of punishment involves no physical aggression. I really hate it when I was punished physically, in other words, I was slapped or beaten with my stepfather’s belt. My grandmother practically never punished me. I also considered punishment extra work around the house like cleaning the patio at strange hours. He know I got scared in the darkness so he make me go out to the patio at night just to see me scared to death and then he laughed and shouted nasty things like “Coward, a man should not be afraid of darkness,” etc. But not every time was a punishment. If we behaved and did things as we were told, the rewards were as varied as punishments. Some of my favorite were to stay late to watch television, more time out to play, and get whatever I want for Christmas. I remembered getting up early on Christmas day to open my presents to see what Santa brought me. Also I was rewarded with the most understanding mother who understands me and my problems.

Time goes by and sad memories are forgiven. We always look back, not with sorrows and regrets, but with nostalgia. We try to remember the good things more than the bad ones and whenever we brought one up we make a joke out of it. If I ever have children, I’ll tr to give them all my love and understanding. I will reprehend them at the right moment so they don’t make the same mistake twice, and I’ll avoid physical punishment as much as I can. You have to be first in a situation in order to judge it right and do the right thing at the right moment. In other words, I think, I’ll do all the opposite thing of whatever my stepfather did to me in order to have my children remembering me more for the good things than the bad ones.

COMMENT FROM THE TEACHER: A fascinating & insightful look at your step-parent. Well done: quite interesting. A+