Elementary School…and the Lost Years?

I remember kindergarten pretty vividly.  I don’t remember disliking it per se, but I do remember being absolutely terrified.  I had never been in a situation with so many kids.  I didn’t understand the rules.  I was often confused.  My mom said she had no trouble putting me on the bus for the first day of school, but she literally had to drag me to school on the second morning.

I remember having fun, though.  I remember playing with bricks that were made out of cardboard.  My grandmother had already taught me how to read, so I didn’t have to worry too much about paying attention.

I remember almost nothing from 1^st, 2^nd, and 3^rd grade, which I’ve always thought was kind of strange.  Interestingly, 25 years later, my most difficult years of parenting were when my son was in 1^st, 2^nd, and 3^rd grade.  Eventually I will write about that.

My 4^th grade teacher was such a witch and a witch spelled with a “b”, too.  She obviously hated children.  On the first day of school, she told us that on the last day of school, she would be telling us “good riddance.”  Fortunately, this kid named Victor gave her hell that year.  He was totally out of control.  If she hadn’t been such a wench, I might have felt sorry for her.  The highlight of the year was when he said something rude and flipped his desk upside-down and everything went all over the place.  We were all paralyzed with our eyes wide as saucers.

My 5^th grade teacher was wonderful.  I ran into her when I was 30 and she remembered me!  She was an amazing teacher.  She loved kids and she loved teaching.  I remember, as when I was in kindergarten, being confused a lot.  There was always so much going on and I seemed to always miss the instructions and was trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing.  I was in the advanced reading group with the nerds.  If it wasn’t for that, I would have assumed I wasn’t smart, since I seemed to be the only one who didn’t understand what was going on half the time.