Monday Memories: My School Years

Hey, y'all! Monday which brings us one of my favorite memes and it's all about sharing memories! Y'all know how much I appreciate memories so you can imagine how excited I was to hear of a meme all about writing our memories! 

Want to join in? Just click the button and link up to Memory Monday at Retired, Not Tired!

This week's prompt is: My School Years

I enjoyed, as much as any kid can, my school years for the most part. Grammar school (what we old timers called elementary school) was uneventful and my teachers were ok. Except for that second grade one. She was horrid. One of my most favorite things about school was the first day of school outfit. I got a new one every year and couldn't wait to wear it on the first day. AND, it was store bought which I loved because my mother made a lot of my clothes and I never appreciated that. 

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 mean as hell very strict.  There was never any doubt that Mrs Garrett was the head bitch in charge the one and only boss in her second grade classroom.

Back in those days, when people still thought that the earth was flat when elementary school was called grammar school, corporal punishment was a teacher's best friend THE acceptable form of classroom management and, most likely, Miss Garrett's sole reason for becoming a teacher.  She absolutely adored made swift use of this method for even the slightest infraction of the breathing classroom rules.  The particular method that gave Miss Garrett such pleasure was a ruler slap to the palm of any 7-year-old hand belonging to any second grader foolish enough to commit a classroom felony (including taking too many breaths in a minute, scratching an itch, or turning one's head in the direction of the blackboard too slow or too fast).  Miss Garrett would marched proudly towards the cowering 7-year-old and demand that he/she hold out their hand which she promptly grabbed by the 4 fingers--to assure connectivity with said hand--and slap the wooden ruler against the uplifted palm--from 1 to 5 times depending on the infraction.

The thorn in my side during second grade was George--the little George not the big one.  LG was a short little dude with straight blond hair and the devil on his right shoulder (no angel on the left side.  He gave up and moved on- most likely during LG's kindergarten year).  Our class was having a share day which meant we could bring one item from home that was special to us.  It was quite an exciting day as, back then, students were not allowed to bring any items from home that were not pertinent to the learning experience.  I, on that fateful day, brought in my favorite book at that time- the story of BAMBI.  Each student had a turn to stand up, show their item, make a brief statement about the item, and then pass it around the room for the other students' viewing pleasure.  Our desks were side by side in a huge, square around the room- when you handed the item to the right it would return to you on your left.  When my turn finally rolled around, I made my statement, held up the book and passed it to my right--on purpose because LG sat on my left and I was not about to let him be the first one to touch my cherished book- and sat right down like the good little soldier prisoner student I was.  Once the book reached LG's mitts, he immediately raised his desk top and shoved my book inside all the while wearing a smug little grin on his face.  (I know I was only 7 but I thought something like, WHATTHEHELL?).

"Give it to me." (whispering)
Silence.
"Give me my book!"  (whispering louder)
Silence.
"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 torture weapon wooden ruler and then carried out the same punishment on LG which was totally unfair because all I did was get my book back and, IF I had to be punished, LG should have gotten way more than me because it was all his doing.

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.