Preschool – My first memories are of a teacher who yelled a lot, a very old, wrinkly, mean lady teacher who yelled a lot. I remember a very nice teacher’s aid that would take care of us (God bless her) from that wicked old witch. The trauma-highlight for me was on “bring your toy sailboat to school” day. My toy boat was too big for the plastic tub that the wicked-old -witch deemed for us to play in. She yelled at me “get that boat out of the water”. The nice teacher’s aid lady took me into the cafeteria to let me play with my-too-large for the group sailboat in the cafeteria sink.
Kindergarten – The year of eating paste…most likely. K-year is not much more than a blur. A crowded room, fighting for time at the block table, Legos all around. The constant yelling “Don’t eat the playdough” from some adult in the room.
1st grade – It was the year we invented crayon-football and nap time went away. I sat next to a child who was always getting in trouble. In today’s world he would be deemed hyperactive, at that time he was just bad. It was also the year of lots of snot, some girl whom I cannot remember her name was a faucet of snot.
2nd grade – Another mean teacher, probably the sister to the wicked witch of the west from preschool days. I had a music teacher who’s lesson I would never forget. Good rhythm and timing will get you through. The music teacher, actually a drum instructor, would always refer to us as girls during drum practice. The cafeteria lady was mean, wooden spoon, hair net and all. I think Adam Sandler found inspiration in her.
3rd grade – My teacher’s name was Ms. Wonder and she was not Wonder Woman. This always confused me. Started my first journal, it was a notebook full of jokes. I wrote this with a friend who kept the journal, 25 years later I got to read it. My penmanship has not improved much…or at all.
4th grade – Disinterested in all things, the year was a blur. I am either repressing something or was totally spaced out during my 4th grade year. The only memory I have is being kicked by a girl at the bus stop.
5th grade – My female teacher had big boobs and a pretty face. Unfortunately she had really, really, really bad breath from smoking. To me she was Jaclyn Smith from afar.
6th grade – Played kickball all the time. I think the teacher hated teaching and kept us out on the playground to kill time. The teacher would play center field, always catching our fly balls so nobody would get a home run.
The next six years of education would be focused on music, girls, sports, killing time and oh yeah…the occasional homework assignment…in that order.
