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This week's prompt is: My School Years
Junior High (they call it middle school now) went by in a blur. I remember enjoying my academics but not much about anything else during those years. Except I do remember some really hateful kids. Mostly girls. And yes, I recall their names. Looking back, I suppose you could almost call them bullies. Not that they physically bullied others but their gossip and the spreading of it was vicious. They never sought truth but could spread a lie quicker than a match following a trail of gasoline. Small town girls they were. OH, and the time my 7th grade science teacher (Ms. Elmore???) putting those disgusting earth worms on our desks for observation. I hated her for that. Still do.
High school flat out sucked. We moved just before my freshman year- from one small town to another- and life during those years were the worst ever. Except for most of the academics. I did enjoy Latin and history and English. Anything else, not so much.
College was good until my junior year when it turned into great. And, once again, I quite enjoyed my academics. So much so that I changed my major 5 times before getting it right. Or, them right, as I ended up with two degrees. I finished my college years off with a master's degree.
Having introduced my school years with a brief summary, I'll re-share a tale of the second grade teacher from hell. (My entire school career was not like the following tale. Most of my teachers were fantastic and I learned so much from them.)
The year was 1965 and her name was Miss Garrett. She was young and sported a very blond 60s haircut, you know the one--poofy with the big flipped up curls that lay above her shoulders--and
Back in those days,
"Give it to me." (whispering)
"Give me my book!" (whispering louder)
"Give. Me. My. Book. NOW!" (maybe a bit louder than a whisper)
LG took my precious possession out of his desk and handed it to me BUT HE DID NOT LET IT GO. He had put a death grip on my book and I was one pissed off second grader. I yanked that book out of his death grip and whacked him right-up-side-his-little-second-grade-head! That's when I noticed Miss Garrett standing in front of my desk. Wooden ruler in hand. CRAP. This was NOT going to end well. At. All.
Miss Garrett's classroom policy was shoot first and NEVER ask what happened. She was not the least bit interested in whowhatwhenwherehoworwhy. NoSir-eeBob. She merely took my hand and whacked my right palm with her
Now, what lesson did I take with me throughout my educational years from this experience? First, take care of LG outside the classroom. Second, do not blindly trust authority figures to render just judgments.
At least I had plucked the thorn from my side. LG was afraid of me from that day forward! Which means he wasn't as dumb as I thought he was.