O'Doyle Rules!
THL requested a post on my worst elementary school memory. But it has to be school related. I wasn't sure if this meant "related to things I was actually supposed to be learning in elementary school" or "things that happened while generally confined to school grounds."
As far as the first one goes, my elementary school days were relatively carefree. Aside from periodic bouts of severe procrastination (I pulled my first all nighter as a fifth-grader), I was a good student, and didn't have any trouble with the academic aspects because let's face it, grade school really wasn’t very hard. I distinctly remember coming home from my first day of first grade and informing my parents that "I was the smartest kid in the class." Although they told me not to brag, they really didn't try to disabuse me of the notion. And honestly, I'm not entirely convinced it wasn't true.
You'd think that being a pint sized smarty pants would have been a problem for me, but it didn't really become an issue until quite a bit later.
So here's a couple of my bad experiences that happened on school grounds. Most of them are the result on some level of being the only child of freak parents and having no social skills. You decide which is episode is the worst. I guess I lean toward the last one.
In the third grade, I was one of the victims of school bussing. Although I lived less than a mile from an elementary school, the powers-that-were decided that putting middle-class white kids onto a bus for a 1/2 hour every morning and sending them into the heart of the ghetto sounded like a pretty good idea. Let me assure you it was not. Nothing in my young life had prepared me to deal with these kids. It was a culture shock in every sense of the word. The worst was this huge girl named Yolanda. She was enormous and took an immediate disliking to me. Mighta had something to do with the whole smarty pants thing, but maybe not. Every day on the playground was just another chance for Yolanda to torment me. Playground taunts in rhyme, being pushed off the high bars, and having portions of my lunch forcibly taken were all standard fare. After one of my "falls" from the high bars, I told the teacher without thinking about the possible consequences of this action. You see, Yolanda's mom was one of the lunch patrol ladies and was about 6 times as large as Yolanda. She cornered me in the lunchroom a few days later and demanded "why did you lie on my Yolanda?" I had no idea what she meant - I'd never lain on her child - or even seen her lying on the floor. But I wisely elected to just keep my mouth shut and got the heck out of there.
In the fourth grade, we moved to
Sidenote: After
This is where I learned that even people you'd spent years around could be mean to you on purpose. We moved back to
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