Lois

Chocolate memories

 

I remember it being really dark but the sunlight streamed through the small basement window in the dining room like an angelic beam of hope. She stood over me, exasperated but firm as I, a 4 year old little girl, sat on the wooden chair at the table just staring at my lap.

 

It was all about pudding. I did not like nor want the chocolate sponge slice as the thick gooey cocoa was overpowering and made me feel sick. My teacher told me that I would not be allowed to leave the dining room until I had eaten it or at least tried to eat some of it.

 

The room was empty having just been vacated chaotically and I could hear the distant giggles and foot stomping of my other little nursery friends upstairs. I cried in the darkness. I kept repeating “I don’t want it. It makes me feel sick” and my teacher kept repeating that I would not be leaving until I ate it.

 

I was scared. I wanted mummy or daddy to come and rescue me. The dinner ladies were wiping down the kitchen in the next room. Why didn’t they come in and say anything? It was just me and her doing battle. I knew that I had no choice. If I wanted to get out of this place, I had to do what she told me to do. So, I reluctantly took a small spoonful of the slice and slowly, painfully, raised it to my lips as she watched me.

“I’ll be back soon” and she walked off.

 

I slammed my spoon down and cried harder, looking over my shoulder, around the darkness, feeling scared. But I refused to eat it. She came back and tutted, looking down at me disapprovingly with my head bowed. Eventually she swiped the plate away and angrily told me to go upstairs to join the others. I raced up those stairs so fast.

 

That night I told my dad what happened when he came home and my father, a tall, foreboding man not to be messed with walked me into nursery the next day and I remember his voice, authoritative and demanding, his anger calm but threatening as was his style. When he spoke, others obeyed and so they did at nursery as I cowered beside his knees gripping his huge hand tight. I never went back to that place again and I was thrilled.

 

It still astounds me how some teachers were allowed to behave towards children in their care 40 odd years ago. Now, I cannot stand the smell or taste of melted chocolate but I deal with it by putting Vapour rub under my nostrils!