I had a huge crush on my first grade teacher. She was nearly the perfect woman—tall, shapely, sparkling eyes, and she really smelled good. I learned about hot! at an early age. I was in love—for sure, for sure. I also had the illusion that our romance was two-way, and that she also was madly in love with me. That illusion was quickly dashed when I reached second grade. Not only did I realize that I was “out of sight and out of mind,” my former teacher now totally ignored me. What a rude awakening, and what an annoyance I must have been to her all along. “Love stinks!” I thought. To add to my misery, I became acutely aware that my second grade teacher actually hated my guts. My outlook went from euphoria to dog shit in just a few short days!
Here's how bad this 2nd grade torture lady was: She divided the class into three groups: A, B, and C. The A group were the bright ones, the B group the average ones, and the C group consisted of the dip shits. She also rank-ordered each group from best to worst. And where do you think she placed me? If you are guessing last person in group C, you are a borderline genius. There I sat in the last seat in group C—the worst of the worst. How's that for pulling the rug out from under my wounded self-image?
And how do you think I got there? Apart from having the worst haircut in the class (an inverted salad bowl cut not unlike your true country hick), old faded and patchy bib overalls that were way too big, and well-worn clod hopper shoes that could be heard for half a block as I plodded along. I was a walking fashion statement for the bad news tramps from the local orphanage who had the temerity to attend the best public school in town but without the fare or the pedigree. I hadn't fallen from the turnip truck, hell, I was the turnip truck!
But I wasn't half as dumb as she thought I was. Nope. I saw through her little game from the gitgo. Unwittingly, she also helped relieve me of part of my misery. I spent a lot of time out in the hallway on the dunce's chair. I didn't even rate a position in the corner of the classroom. Why? I could only surmise that she was such a believer in her system of worth that she would force outcomes...just because. Well, out there I did not have to look at or listen to her ramble on about her brilliant academic classification system. Yes, it seems she also did not understand much about the range of the human voice, and the sensitivity of the human ear as well as the ability of the human brain to assimilate and decode the information it received. You see the teacher's lounge was right across the hall, so I got to eaves drop on all the scuttlebutt that was flowing from teacher to teacher. And you wouldn't believe the education I got from that seat in the hallway! The gossip was thick as molasses—and priceless.
On one inauspicious day while I was wasting away body and soul in the hallway chair, I overheard several teachers gabbing away in their lounge. They were praising someone like the dickens. I heard “wow, what a score!” and “oh, he's so smart.” and “his speech is flawless,” and “he understands everything first time.” I wondered who they could possibly be so damned excited about. Then they mentioned his name. Holy shit balls! They were talking about me! Suddenly I was a freak of nature—a simultaneous screw up and a smart ass. That would be a heavy burden for anyone to carry. What was I to do?
I took a chance on remaining a screw up. Being the poster boy for student achievement was more than my ego, id, and super ego could handle. No, I had no experience with, or a desire to become, a wimpy little momma's boy of academic excellence, and by god they were not going to make one out of me.
Things got off to another bad start. When Miss a-hole got word of my score she moved me from worst of the worst, to best of the best in one fell swoop. WTF? I was now a human yo-yo and nobody had asked my opinion about the matter at all. Suddenly, I could do no wrong.
One day the class was reading a silly story about a gingerbread man that could talk. This struck me as a story that bordered on something coming from the fruit farm. When the reading was over, the teach began her heavy analysis of its plot. Somewhere in the midst of it all, apparently the gingerbread man asked a little girl to “eat him.” I was not paying attention to her ramblings. But suddenly she turned to me and asked “Edward, please explain what the gingerbread man really meant when he asked the little girl to “eat me.” Suddenly, I realized that she was asking me a question, and I had no idea what she was talking about.
I stammered and cleared my throat. “What are my choices” I finally muttered. “Well,” she replied, “he either wanted her to eat him or not. What would you have done in his situation?” Now I had heard the older boys in the school use this expression quite a few times, and I knew it meant something really good, because it always made them very excited. So I blurted out “Eat me!”
She turned on me. “Edward. Stand up this minute and apologize for that outburst!” My head was reeling. “What the blazes is she talking about?” I wondered. So I looked at her and said “I'm sorry for whatever I said.”
“You know what you said. We don't use that kind of language in this classroom. Now apologize correctly.” I looked as contrite as I could and said “I didn't mean that I wanted anyone in this class to eat me. I meant only that I wanted Miss XXX to eat me.”
I spent the rest of that school year out in the hallway, and did not understand why until 5th grade.
This could be in the first part of your early childhood ,hope you continue to write the collection that is if you have not alresdy done, to write down your autobiograpgy if you please. Many more will like you to do
I am sure it will be a big hit ! Very well done you are a master at the craft you wish to learn, this I am sure!JK
ahaha.. mr. phillips, i'm still laughing. this was very entertaining. never had much good student-teacher relationship either. my teachers in elementary grade were dream killers. but, they're nice people.
After I stopped laughing, being reminded that when my brother called a classmate a "horror," in eighth grade and got hell for it, I'll have to give you credit for not only starting to tell us your remarkable life story, but doing it with great humor. I did catch a couple of things in that flawless writing you learned in grade school. I believe it was, "out of sight, out of [mind]." And you may have wanted to say "teacher" although it is perfectly all right to say, "… the teach began her heavy analysis…"
I only remember my first grade teacher as kind and being the one who had to tell my brother and I that we had pulled our pants down rather than our snow pants in the hallway that spring day to our great embarrassment [bare-ass-ment].
In second grade we were in a whole different school. Our teacher, Ms. Colburn (we called her Cold Burn), was a real battle ax and gave me my only D, in math, in my entire schooling career. I made up for it by getting an A+ in algebra in eighth grade. Our neighbor and friend, John Brandt, had a crush on the young first grade teacher. She was a hall monitor when we came into school and he would throw candy to her on his way to class. One day, he missed. I saw the candy go down the front of her dress. It was a topic of discussion for some time amongst us. I don't know if it improved his chances with his puppy love.
A quick and easy method for analyzing the parts of a sentence and learning English grammar. Now available as an eBook in PDF format. All study notes, exercises and tests are reproducible blackline masters that teachers can take directly to the copy m
Crisis Management for First Responders is for first responders to be able to help victims of critical incidents as well as their own personnel who are affected by the trauma they witness or experience themselves.
A quick and easy method for analyzing the parts of a sentence and learning English grammar. Now available as an eBook in PDF format. All study notes, exercises and tests are reproducible blackline masters that teachers can take directly to the copy m
First Person...Perfect!
