It's simple when you're a child.

When I was about 11, I used to love the swings at school. The swings were at one corner of a playground, with the cemented basketball court in front of them, and a sand pit facing a stone wall behind them. Most of the girls at my school faced the basketball court so that they could watch the other kids as they swung. On the other hand, I used to like swinging facing the sand pit and wall because I used to love jumping off the swing onto the soft sand. It made me feel like an Olympic pole vault champion! That high point of the swing, just before you start your descent, when you're almost in line with the swing pivot, was such a thrill! The swoosh of the air against your neck as you came down and swung the other way to see the pivot, back and forth was delightful! I always had a big smile on my face after going on the swing.

One day as I waited for my van to pick me up from school, I was swinging and singing my favourite song when I saw the school Principal walk past the swings. Normally, as per convent school rules, one had to go and wish her according to the time of day (Good evening Sister.). However, I was way to high on the swing to suddenly stop and go wish her. So I continued swinging. Unfortunately for me, a few minutes later, I was asked to get off the swing and follow the school Principal to her office. I thought that I had missed my van and had to wait for one of my parents to pick me up from school. It didn't occur to me that I was in trouble.

When we reached the Principal's office, I was made to kneel outside the door and wait till I was called upon. I didn't understand why I was being punished. I started to get nervous. Had she seen me passing a note to my friend in class? Had I worn the wrong colour ribbon in my hair? Was my uniform untidy? Had I dropped something from my school-bag and accidentally littered the grounds? As I was kneeling, my palms began sweating, my heart beat a little faster, my knees beginning to feel every grain in the rough stone flooring.

When I was finally called into the dreaded Principal's office, I was asked to provide my home phone number. I called out the number as she began dialling and followed by telling her that there would be nobody at home for another 40 minutes. She slammed the phone down and yelled at me for speaking out of turn. I tried to justify my actions by explaining that both my parents work and that my elder sister would be off at college and that the house would be locked and empty. She then accused me of being sneaky and trying to escape trouble by giving me the wrong number and demanded to see my school diary. She then called my mother's office and told my mother to come and pick me up as I had behaved badly at school. I stood there terrified. As far as I knew, I had attended all my classes, done all my homework, albeit I did get caught talking in class during the third class of the day around 11am. Had the teacher reported me? Is that what this was about?

My mother drove the four kilometres to the school, and got to the Principal's office looking worried. Once again I was made to go outside and kneel till I was called in. My mother was told about my 'bad behaviour' after which I was called in to have my say. “What do you have to say for yourself?” the Principal asked? I stood there blank, unsure of what I was supposed to say. I didn't know what I had done, what I was being reprimanded for, and whether I was to apologise, cry, promise to listen, never talk in class again, wear cleaner shoes, not pass notes in class....What do I say? What had I possibly gotten into trouble for?! Then the Principal said it. “Your daughter was going very high on the swing, facing the wrong way, so that every time she went high, she could look across the road into the boys school, Class VIII A.”

I stood there dumbstruck. I knew there was a boys' school across the road, it was a landmark I had learned if I ever needed to explain where my school was located. I figured there would be a class VIII A. I also knew there was a wall around the boys' school just as there was one around my girls' school. Besides, why would I want to look into that classroom? What was in it that I may want to see? It's just a classroom! I turned to look at my mother and saw the same confusion reflected in her eyes. It felt like the silence lasted about twenty minutes, when it probably had been only five.

Then my mother said “Is that all Sister? I thought my daughter had behaved badly!” At once I knew I had done nothing wrong and I had my mother on my side. The Principal then went on to explain how gawking at boys is not lady-like and how such behaviour cannot be condoned at the school and that if I could not behave appropriately that I would be expelled.

I continued to stand there confused thinking, “Why would I want to look at boys when I could go high on a swing?! What is so great about boys?” It hadn't even occurred to me that if I strained my neck, kept my eyes wide open while going high on the swing, looked across my school wall, across the main road, over the boys' school wall, that I may probably be able to look into a classroom that MAY or MAY NOT have boys in it at the time. But my principal had said that I was. Is that what the other girls did when they went high on the swing? But they faced the other side! What were they looking at when they went high on the swing? Was I not like the other girls because I faced the wrong way and didn't want to look over the walls at the boys' school? I began doubting my own behaviour. Maybe I was not as smart or developed as the other girls. Maybe there was something wrong with me. As this occurred to me, I began to cry. I was afraid that I was different and may be teased.

My mother seemed to have read my mind, and recounted my thoughts, almost verbatim. She explained to the principal that by making such accusations and judgements, that she was planting thoughts into my young mind. Thoughts that had never occurred to me. She also asked the Principal to get on the swing and go high and see for herself whether the boys' school was visible to her, and that since I was at least three-four inches shorter, that it is almost certain that I would not be able to see anything at all in the split-second that I am that high up on a swing. She then proceeded to inform my principal that making me kneel outside her office and not telling me what I was being punished for was inappropriate and that she was taking me home. She said that she would deal with the matter in the house, and that my principal had just ruined one of my favourite activities with her ignorant assumptions and that she is very disappointed in the principal and the school.

We left school and my mother took me to a shop on the way and bought me a sugar-cane juice. She reassured me that I had nothing wrong and that I should continue to swing any way I liked. I asked her if I was not normal for wanting to face the wrong way and swing. She then told me never to think that doing something differently from someone else was 'wrong'. She said it was a different perspective and that it was always good to think differently. She told me that people who succeed in life and people who are remembered long after they are gone are all people who thought 'differently'

And how right she was about that.

But the reason I wrote this, is to share with you that at the age of 11, I was made to feel insufficient, abnormal, nervous, afraid, doubtful, and punished for something I never did, never intended to do or never knew I could do. I was lucky enough to have a mother who stood up for me when I needed her. I was lucky enough to have a mother who trusted her. But what about parents who trust the school system more than their own kids? How many of them are going to be treated like I was, and nobody to fight for them? What happens to them?