The Desisto School

I was the grand recipient of lessons that had nothing to do with academics and everything to do with feelings of abandonment, brainwashing and an attempt to defile my spirit.

The DeSisto School 

It was not uncommon to sit amongst the childsren of aristocrats and celebrities. DeSisto was a solution to all the parental responsibilities and issues that the parents themselves did not have the time, honesty or inclination to impart. But I of course did not come from money nor the eloquence of an aristocratic or politically acclaimed family. No! I came from the orchards and backdrop of the seasonal labor worker. A product of country living in  a small farming town. The uneducated seemed more normal to me than those who would use BIG words and wear designer clothing. I realized upon my arrival that I was different. 

Since DeSisto was a boarding school, everything I knew was left across the country in my little town in Northern California. I was utterly alone... Florida's stifling humidity was different than the dry heat felt in Northern California. It seemed to strangle me as I breathed it in. My days were marked by my resistance to change and the yearning for the familiar. The only thing that remained unchanged about my surroundings were the constellations. Visible only at night, I would stair at Orian and remembered looking up into his twinkling beauty in the confines of my bedroom back home. The stars in the sky were an anchor to which I would hold onto in hopes of keeping me sane. 

I felt so small and insignificant at Desisto. It was a place that was intended to give me a better education than I could ever receive back home. Yet, I hardly remember sitting in a classroom. I remember dorm meetings that felt more to be like intense sessions of bitterness, confrontation and pain. I was quiet and remained cool to anyone that would talk to me. I felt no compassion from those that surrounded me. I only felt the sickness that came when my empathy for others would attack my own emotional sphere. I clung to my pain as if it were the only thing I could call my own.  

I never realized that my silence was a punishable act of treason. I was probed and prodded as if I were protecting some secret that I stealthily hid inside of my brain. I was simpler than that, my reality a narrative of things of my past. I would dwell on old memories of my family intact. I would transcend my surroundings by pretending I could smell the sweetness of peach orchards and taste the green onions from my grandmothers back yard. My reverie only got me into trouble as I would not speak out about all my supposed transgressions. Transgressions that never existed. When I did open ever so slightly, I was scorned as if not being truthful. My past seemed so insignificant by comparison to the lifestyles that my peers had experienced. Or so I thought. 

Students who agreed with the hostel badgering that was carried out by means of confrontation, turned to interpersonal conflicts. Students were rewarded with power over those who resisted. It was as if you would admit saying: 'Yes, I am fucked up, and it is all my fault!' you would be given favor for your honesty. I of course could see through the veil of bullshit that was considered therapeutic. Students would inevitably say or admit to almost anything just to placate the dorm parents and upper level students. The entire school was on a level system. When you arrive you are a level zero, attached to another student and no further away from them than arms length. They called this system being "leashed" as if an invisible leash stood between you and the person who you were meant to follow around. 

To be continued...

    

Reviews

[A. Amos]

I love the way you start the tale, the depth of human minds and classess. Simple farming background and decent humble people stuck with designers wearing folks...looking forward to read more and I have to tell you something is unique and elegant about you. What I sense from your writing is pure honesty and courage...consider me one of your fan:)

[Imogean Tweetie]

Thank you, it is indeed a true story. I am no well educated, I am self taught. I have learned by reading others writing and moreover just being honest about myself, my feelings and inspirations. I am no different than others, just different life circumstances. I look forward to hearing more from you, and learning from you too. A new friendship begins, how exciting! :)

[A. Amos]

You write great and very well and trust me not every one can write otherwise the whole world would be full of writers:)

[Imogean Tweetie]

The world is full of writers, just not all of them are note worthy… Hopefully, I am. I cross my fingers tight and pray to God this is so. Thank you for your kind words of encouragement, I am ore than grateful for them.

[The Twin Arenas]

you should keep writing this. people love to read about fucked up schools.

[Imogean Tweetie]

Oh my story really begins much earlier than DeSisto, I have lived one hellava life. Sure much of it seems like a tragic nightmare, but it has been worth it in the grand scope of my life. Today, I get to help others and understand their pain, their loss and even the absence of hope at times. I am here to tell my story, and it is my hope that it will encourage others to keep going, and reach for the stars, because if I made it then they can too...

[meridoodlebim]

For me, it was hell on earth. I haven't set foot on the property in over 27 years, yet I'm still haunted daily.

[Rossen]

I enjoy your craft, you tell it well, but I will hold off on praise and review
because I hope you will share more of this interesting experience.
I like your voice,


Rossen

[Imogean Tweetie]

Thank you so much for the review. There will be more since it is my memoir… The fact that you wanted to read more is a wonderful compliment. I know that in order to get this published, it must catch the readers attention within the first few paragraphs. What is odd is that I just write, it just flows from me without thought or provocation. Since in comes from my memory I don't have to do as much planing. I am relying on my honesty to make this worthy of reading. Thank you very much….

[Rossen]

that's the thing... that's what connects honesty is in demand nowadays.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

being from one background we can really feel like we don't belong in a place like this...but poverty, less means doesn't have anything to do with intelligence...

this has the makings of a really good story, i think...

i want to see this character not only survive, but win in the end, ultimately prove that those snobs were in the wrong...

[Imogean Tweetie]

I really appreciate your review. I am banking everything I have on this story of mine. And, I haven't even came close to hitting the ruff parts. I am finding the process very therapeutic. Thanks bunches, Jacob…

[Imogean Tweetie]

I just saw a dozen errors. Repeated words, word use with the wrong verbiage. Tis is a ruff draft, I would hate to see my ruff in print. What a disturbing thought. Thank God for editors.