impulse

Impulse

Have you ever been impulsive and regretted it badly?

When I was young, I had noticed that many children in my class wrote notes and secretly passed them on to their friends. This annoyed me, because no one ever wrote to me. One fine day I suddenly wrote a little note in yibberish to no one at all and threw it across the classroom. My teacher, however, saw me do this and picked the note up from the floor. She opened it and was very surprised to read my mysterious words. She told me I had to stay after class. When all the children had gone home, she yelled at me and demanded that I tell her what the message was that I had written. I told her that I had just made the words up. She did not believe me. She kept asking the same question over and over again, but there was nothing else for me to say. I couldn’t understand why my teacher couldn’t accept that it wasn’t a secret code, but just nonsense. When she grew tired of my stubborness, she harshly ordered me to go home and tell my parents about the incident. I was to report back the next morning about their response.

When I got home, my dad was playing chess with a friend. This did not seem a good time to tell him about what had happened. Nor did it seem a good time at any point that evening. Moreover, I was afraid that my parents would be astounded by my stupidity and would not understand at all.

The next morning I didn’t know what to do, except to go to school. How I wished I could have called in sick! When I announced to my teacher that I hadn’t told my parents, she threw her hands into the air. She was angry with me, but didn’t know what else to do with me. No further punishment followed, but she kept her suspicions. It wasn’t until weeks later that the matter seemed forgotten.

I was only ten years old.

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