Back To School Time

This week almost every school district is headed back to class. Two of my nephews (I almost put both but there are three now) are going to public school for the first time this year. I’m sure and sure hope they will fit right in.

I never had to be the new kid on the block. I started kindergarten and finished the 12th grade in the same district with the same classmates.

I remember in kindergarten, I sat next to my friend, Stephen, I just thought it was okay to talk to him. The teacher told me you couldn’t just talk to someone you had to raise your hand first. I took her quite literally and put my hand in the air and continued talking to Stephen until she quickly said the rule only applied to a question I might have for her. Otherwise, I was told to keep my mouth shut.

Then there was the time in first grade, Mrs. Weldy’s class, when Stephen and I both brought Star Wars action figures into school. He had a Storm Trooper that was dirty and my parents had just bought me one (read: clean). He told the teacher it was his. We both got in trouble but I think I ended up getting mine back. Good best friend, huh? He still maintains I was wrong to this day.

I remember being sick a lot in second grade (read: I didn’t like school much, I wanted to stay home and watch TV) I had a great teacher, Mrs. Elzroth.

In third grade, the entire class got in trouble. We each got taken out in the hall and yelled at by Mrs. Glessner because no one would play with the new girl. Of course, we didn’t want to, she had cooties, first off. She also had a southern accent because she was from West Virginia and none of us could understand her. Kids can be so brutal.

In fourth grade, the teacher, Mrs. Renninger gave me passes to go to the restroom apparently because I always was going there. Hey, I had to pee, don’t blame me, it’s my bladder, teach! She did read us The Great Brain books right after lunch so we had that going for us.

In fifth grade, I actually got called to the principal’s office. Don’t worry, it wasn’t something I did wrong. I kept my nose clean. Apparently, one of my classmates brought their dad’s Playboy to school. That’s a no-no. We all knew who did it. Everybody who got called into the office, told Mr. Bowers the same thing, we pointed the kid out. We didn’t want paddled. He went in for his interrogation and got away with it. I’ll never forget how red his ears were when he walked into the classroom. Apparently, that’s what happened to him when he got nervous, his ears turned red. Liar! I wasn’t taking the heat, I tell ya!

In sixth grade, my teacher’s first name was Dorcus. Her reputation preceded her and so did her name. She scared me to death. She was by the books and she made you listen. She also had a fascination for the English language and was always teaching us words, many of them I still can’t spell. Try abecedarian.

I don’t know what grade I was in at the time but I have the distinction of killing the lunch profits one day in elementary school. I really WAS sick and puked all over the place. Think projectile vomiting at its best, complete with Froot Loops, (Sorry, Matt) orange juice and pizza from the night before. Yum!

The other fun story that I had from elementary school was the restroom. We had a large circular tub that allowed multiple kids to watch their hands at the same time. You’d step on the foot pedal and the water would come on, you’d step off and the water would go off. Some guy came in, apparently thinking he was at the Muni Stadium and pee’d in the sink. Ah, dude, that’s where we wash our hands, put that thing away. He was probably a pervert anyhow.

Here’s the last thing I’ll say from my walk down memory lane. My dad is a notorious jokester. If you have the time, he’s got the jokes. He would always say this to us on the first day.

Dad: How was your first day of classes?
Me: Apparently I didn’t do so good, they tell me I have to go back tomorrow.

It’s his joke not mine but it became a family tradition.

Ah, to be young again,