Her father was a pastor, her handwriting was perfect, but our friendship wasn't real

I recently ran into a primary school classmate. Anne and I were in Class Six together for a term or two before she transferred to another school. My biggest memory of her was her beautiful handwriting. You know those people who write so well you want to ask them if they went to a handwriting school before starting upper primary. Such was Anne’s handwriting. My own handwriting which, unfortunately, has remained unchanged over the years, is barely legible even to me. You will, therefore, understand why, seeing Anne’s handwriting when I was at the grand age of ten was something very close to the eighth wonder of the world.

The second thing I believe drew Anne and I close to each other was a love for Christian songs. Anne’s dad was a pastor and because of that, she had a bigger collection of Christian songs which she’d always teach me how to sing during breaks or on the way home. I joke that my growing up a Christian did not stop me from having a ‘song book’. Thanks to Anne, I had a ‘song book’ in which I wrote Christian songs.

Well, maybe the third and final thing that kept us together was that both Anne and I were top performers in class. If I was number two then she would be number one, and vice versa.

Another school

Anne left the school the same way she had joined us – suddenly. I neither remember her first day in school, nor the first time I saw her. It was the same story when she left. I also do not remember how we became very close friends. All I know is that if she had stayed in the school longer, she would have ended up either becoming my best friend, or one of my two best friends.

Well, when you are ten years old and your friend transfers to another school, and her family relocates to another town, the hope of ever seeing them again is not usually something you know how to fall back on. I slowly forgot about Anne. In the stories I tell people, she is that friend I met as a child who had a beautiful handwriting and taught me how to keep a song book, plus, sing some hymns.

I ran into Anne a few weeks ago and she could not remember me. I mean, many years have come and gone so it is understandable that she could not immediately recognise me, which was the case even for me.

However, when she was introduced by name, I immediately remembered my old friend with a good handwriting. I was excited to reconnect with her, but I could tell that she genuinely could not place my face or name. I started telling her about the days she stood next to the school van with me and we sung from her song book as we waited for the van to fill up.

After the initial chit-chat, I sought to understand why she could completely not remember me, which was odd considering how close we were.

“We were close friends! I would understand if I was just another random classmate,” I said.

“I saw you as competition! When I left the school, I did not want to remember you. I think that is how come my mind just completely blocked you. I wanted to totally forget you,” she said, startling me.

Close friend

“Competition for what?” I asked.

“Remember the positions at the front? Me and you were serious competitors. The worst was when you only beat me by a few marks,” she explained, after I prodded, further shocking me.

You can imagine the shock I was in, that someone I considered a very close friend, and I was maybe just a term away from making my best friend nearly hated me because she considered me competition in class.

We laughed about it and I tried not to act as nervous as I felt. However, this reunion got me seriously wondering about the pressure she must have been from home (or wherever) to perform well in class.

Reflecting on this encounter, I am reminded of the delicate balance needed in supporting children’s ambitions without pushing them into unhealthy competition. Or maybe a child psychologist reading this column can explain to me this level of extreme competition among children?

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The writer is the Research & Impact Editor, NMG