The Frog

Then he kicked into gear. “Turn and put your hands on the desk.” And I finally saw ‘the frog’. It was a stuffed frog that sat on his desk. It was on some kind of wires, or string strapped to a pole.

Do you feel like you don’t fit in? Are you a wanderer in your own life, occasionally excited into action by direction given by another, a book, or a leader, but finding yourself shortly wandering in the woods of life again? Are you the odd one out in every crowd, every career, every church, and every political group?

No, I’m not selling a new 7 steps to freedom book. I’m describing my own life. If you can’t relate to the opening paragraph, no need to read on, go work on your abs, make a new resolution with Tony Robbins watch Stranger Things or listen to the happiest song ever.

I sometimes envy you, but you won’t get this.

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A Story Of A Spanking Frog

I was shuffled from school to school when I was young. I was rarely at a school long enough to make any friends that I can remember of now, but I do remember most of the Vice Principals at these schools because they left quite an impression on me. You might say, I got a wallop, as we called them, also paddling, spanking, child abuse... but I got one or a few from nearly every 'Vice.' I don’t know why it was always the Vice Principal doing it, maybe it was like an initiation in the secret society of child camps.
I don't remember ever receiving a wallop for misbehaving (though I could be wrong), it was always something to do with grades, daydreaming or drawing.

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I only remember a few of these wallops in detail. But there is one I can never forget. This spanking was assisted by a cute stuffed frog.

It was a Christian private school. On the first day of class, this tall, skinny, good looking Vice Principal (I guess they were all tall when you're in fourth grade.) gave a speech like I had never experienced. He laid down the rules, and said they were simple, and every infraction was immediately dealt with–with the bouncing frog.

I didn’t know what he meant by the frog, but the class did, they chuckled as did the teachers. He came and stood by me, (It was only a school of about 40 kids) put a stern hand on my shoulder and addressed the class, “how many of you have seen the frog hop?” a few lifted their hands.

“Do you like seeing the bouncing frog?”

“No!!!’ They collectively shouted.

“Do you think your new classmate wants to see the bouncing frog?”

Again ..“No!!!’ and one kid said “Yes!”, off rhythm and laughed.

At this moment the class clown slapped his hand across his back side, in a little dance.

I knew instantly what the bouncing frog was. This was the school's strange description of a 'wallop.'

He then looked at me and said, “trust them, you don’t want to see the frog hop, and as long as you obey the rules and keep your grade above B you’ll never have to.”

–fu%$. I didn’t know that word yet, but that’s what I thought in translation. I knew that I had never gotten a B in anything but art class, B- to be exact.

I hadn’t listen to the other rules, they all seemed like the normal rules that I accidently broke all the time. I had a hard time concentrating on the things that I couldn’t do anything about.

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Trying To Fit In Where We Don't Belong Sucks

Those first few weeks at school, I tried harder than I had ever had and attempted to do what I was told. We sat in cubical type desks. I remember there was a warning system. The teacher would just call out a name “That’s number one Mary, two more, and you’ll see the frog.” I got several of these warnings. Usually for getting caught drawing, or daydreaming and not realizing I was sitting turned, and looking outside the cubicle. I wasn’t keeping track, and I didn’t think she was either.

One morning there was a little report card on my desk. All the grades were well below 60. I didn’t know what came after D-, but that was my GPA. I shivered a little. That meant I was going to get a ‘wallop.’ A few days went by, and nothing. No Principle, no frogs. I convinced myself they were like most adults, saying things they never carry out. But I was wrong.

And Then Comes The Wallop!

In the middle of class Mr. Tall Smiley Vice came and escorted me to his office. He said all the normal Christian spanking dialogue. I was used to it.
“Do you know why you're here... We care about your future that’s why I’m doing this… God wants better for you.”

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I still was trying to convince myself that this was just a warning talk, while he rambled on about the grade and how I should consider making better ones … blah blah blah,blah blah is what I heard while scanning the office for this frog they always talked about.

Then he kicked into gear. “Turn and put your hands on the desk.” And I finally saw ‘the frog’. It was a stuffed frog that sat on his desk. It was on some kind of wires, or string strapped to a pole.

“We’re not over until the frog hops,” he said.

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**He hit me harder than I’d ever been hit in my life, and I’d been hit to bruising. I fell on my knees after the first wallop, and it wasn’t an attempt for pity... It was sheer velocity. He got me back up again and I don’t remember how long it took for the ‘frog to hop’, or if it hopped at all. I’ve blocked out the rest of the eternal spanking session, except that I do remember when I thought he was done, he said ‘that was for the grade,’ then brought up the three strikes I had for drawing in class and we went through it again.

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Finding The Box Didn't Fit

I think that was when I was truly done with school. Even trying to be a part of it. There was another ‘frog hop’ while I was there, but as was the case in my life, we moved on to another school mid-year. To my parents credit, I think they found out about the brutal spankings, and knew I was not able to make the grades, they might have gotten me out for that reason.. I don’t know.

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The silly part is, I was consistently punished throughout my years in school for what I actually make a living at now, and have for the past decades. I’ve even won many, over 30 national awards at last count, for … you guessed it: daydreaming; drawing, writing and telling stories, singing. That’s the exact list of the infractions I would constantly bring home from schools.

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Nothing Can Stop You; Not Even You

My point in this post is that NOTHING CAN STOP YOU, not even the bouncing frog. Not someone hitting you so hard that you fall on your knees, not the pain of feeling lost in a culture that doesn’t get you, not failing grades, not your boss, not your parents, not the government, not your church, not your trauma!

Nothing can stop you; it can only fuel and further your drive to find a place you fit. You become desperate to find it. And thank the gods you do, thank the gods that you can't rest until you find it, that you can’t stop, that you feel crazed and out of control, that you can’t get comfortable making it in this or that career, otherwise… you would stay. You would stay in that cubicle and make an ‘A’ in a life that is not yours to live. When you finally feel like a mad crazy loon, then you’re ready. You're ready to become who you already are, who you’ve always been, even in that Vice-Principal's office years ago.

You might say no one can stop you but you, and that may be true, I don't know. Can you stop you? Will you stop you?
The problem is usually when we keep bumping against what feels like dead-ends, it is because we STILL are trying to fit in the box we are not made to fit. We're still trying to get someone to give us an 'A+' in their version of reality. We'll never get it, and if we do we will see it was a arbitrary plateau.

Roosevelt Quote

You already are. Who you 'were' was weaving the masterpiece of yourself. You are being done. You are not doing. You are being painted, not painting. Written not writing. What you can do is realize it and that’s when you stop trying to fit into someone else's painting and accept you as the masterpiece now... then you can become who you are.

To Become, 'Realized.' To Realize something, something must already be there to realize.

[re·al·ize]

**_ˈrē(ə)ˌlīz verb 1. become fully aware of (something) as a fact; understand clearly._**

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Hi, I'm Ezra Vancil a musician & artist based in Texas. I'm writing an original steem novel based on a short story I wrote. All on Steemit to help me finish the damn thing. Follow me @ezravan . Resteem if you so feel lead, upvote if the stars align.

Check out some of my other stuff The Cosmic Creative & In The Studio or check out a poem

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