School elicits many memories for me. You see, my dad was a school teacher. My initial school experience, kindergarten and first grade, happened in the county I lived in and I remember that letters of the alphabet were introduced with plastic blow-up characters – each one with a characteristic using said letter of the alphabet. I remember “H” was hairy. I also remember dancing to songs about each letter. My teacher had long blonde hair.
First grade I’d just as soon forget, because I was part of an experiment where we had to change classes just like we were in high school. So many teachers, rooms, subjects ect…was overwhelming to say the least and I became proficient at sticking my fingers down my throat to throw-up and tell everyone I was sick. I hated it!!
Second-grade I was switched to going to school in the county where my dad taught, so I came and went as he did. Some days ended pretty promptly, and some included faculty meetings which lasted forever. I thought it was pretty cool having a parent that was a teacher until I got in trouble. Then, it wasn’t so fun. I enjoyed elementary school, and when my dad retired I continued to ride to school with my then seventh-grade teacher who lived just down the road.
Eighth-grade was a total nightmare with fights over boyfriends and lots of girl-boy drama, so I decided I was fed up with this small-town school and wanted to return to my own county for high-school. Instead of a class size of about 80 students, suddenly I was part of 300! I was a small fish in a big pond, my dad wasn’t a teacher there and never had been, and I could re-create myself! And I did! I wound up starring in the Spring musical (Annie Get Your Gun) and from that point on I was the drama queen. (or so I thought) My high school career revolved around drama and music and plenty of boys. Did I say I liked drama?
My folks probably wanted to disown me and my drama most of the time, but I was a good student, so they let me continue with my love of the stage. I was in a few clubs and went to some neat events along the way, and overall (when I wasn’t crying over some stupid guy) enjoyed high school.
All-in-all, I really enjoyed school. I enjoyed sick-days spent at my grandparents and all the attention I got as a performer. There were a couple of years I rode the bus – which I despised – but most of the time I was riding with friends or parents so that was cool. However, every fall, as the air turned cooler and the freedom of summer ended, I got the blues. My diaries attest to this season of doldrums every year. As a parent, I suffer from this same malady.
I love to learn, I love structure and I love people, so school suited me. But unless the Lord plants a specific desire in my head, other than the BA I hold in English, I don’t ever plan on going back again!
5 comments:
I'm so glad you joined in this week! I loved reading your memories.
And you must have REALLY hated changing classes. I can't think of anything that would make me voluntarily throw up to avoid!
Oh, and I hope it's okay that I added your post to Mr. Linky!
That was a fun trip down memory lane. I can't believe that they actually thought that grade one could handle changing classes all day long! You must have had lessons for al of fifteen minutes by the time they got you all settled back down. I've worked in a school environment for the last sixteen years and the thing I miss most from my childhood is having the kids line up outside before coming in to the school. We were never allowed in until we were orderly. Now the the bells rings and the kids just hurdle themselves into the school willy nilly. It's amazing no one has been trampled yet.
I also can't imagine having to switch classes as a first grader--that had to be awful!
It's kinda fun that you got to "reinvent yourself" as you went through high school.
When I was in third grade we rotated through one large classroom set up into four different areas for each class. That was our "changing classes" and I thought it was fun, but we didn't go to separate classrooms at all.
I'm with Linda; I can't think of anything that would make me voluntarily throw up!
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