First Grade

First grade was a pivotal time for me. I learned a lot about myself and other humans but mostly in hindsight. I have often wondered about this time, myself and my actions. In the recent past, I mentioned that I had skipped kindergarten. The response was that I must have been smart. The truth is that no one wanted to take me. I skipped kindergarten because it was not a legal requirement.

When I entered first grade, I was tested. I knew my letters, and my numbers, though they didn't like my one stroke number 5 and divided it into the body and the top slash. I really couldn't tell you how I knew either. My sister Holly had taken me to the library and I was amazed that they let me take the books I selected home. I don't remember a lot of reading or teaching, though I have vague recollections of my sister Katie reading me stories sometimes. No matter, I managed and was at grade level. 

During the school year, there was a "whistling incident". Someone whistled when no one was looking and eventually the teacher had enough. Her solution was to have all of us put our heads down, as in "duck, duck, goose" and allow the culprit to come forward unseen. Every other kid in class must have had the same, "that's stupid" thought, as no one came forward. It's not like we couldn't see, under the crook of our arm!

The stand off was too much! I couldn't take it any more and decided on the sacrifice play. After I walked to the front of the class, not one but four other classmates did the same. I wondered if any of them were the actual whistler, but didn't ask. Our punishment was to miss recess but ironically, we received a special recess that more than made up for the missed one as it was just the five of us. This seemed strange to me but, as a kid who missed kindergarten, I thought maybe I just didn't understand.

One day we had a wool spinning demonstration, scheduled for just after lunch. I had never seen anything like it and was looking forward to it. Unfortunately, on that particular day, my stomach was upset. You would think a child going to the nurse at the beginning of recess would be cause for concern but no. When I arrived at the nurse's office at the beginning of lunch recess, I was encouraged to "try my apple" when I said my stomach was upset. I ate most of the apple and spent my whole lunch recess with the nurse. I returned to class not feeling much better but excited to see wool spun on a wheel. 

My teacher had told us if we felt sick, it was okay to leave and come back to tell her what happened. In the middle of the demonstration, I knew I was going to throw up and got up quietly to leave. When I arrived at the door, my teacher asked where I was going and I turned around to answer and barfed. I was mortified and ran from the room, throwing up on my way to the girls restroom. By the time I reached the toilet, I had nothing left. I was embarrassed and returned to the classroom avoiding the little piles of apple-filled vomit I had made. All I can say is, thank goodness it happened when I was young! I had friends that had thrown up at school and pretty much, anything that happened after third grade followed them into Junior High.

Outside of school, I had a neighborhood friend group and we roamed far and wide looking for adventure. One afternoon, we discovered the beautiful roses of a particular neighbor and decided to take some home to our families. The problem was, it didn't occur to us to ask. A woman came out of the house and yelled at us as we broke off stems from different bushes. My friends scattered but I took the blooms to the lady and apologized. I don't know why I didn't run with the other kids. I'm not sure where my moral compass came from, but there it was.

I have thought about this more than I probably should have. As a Psychology student, I was (and still am) endlessly fascinated with what motivates individuals to do what they do/did, yet I couldn't answer that question for myself. There was no reason to step forward. I could have easily run away like the other children. Why didn't I? There wasn't a constant in my life. No mentor or role model to follow. This is not to say I didn't have good people to love and model but we were all at different points on a path of self discovery.

Towards the end f the school year, my teacher warned me that I would not complete first grade successfully unless I finished my math workbook. Although, I only had one unit to complete, at this point, the end is nigh, and in my panic I shared my imminent failure with my Mother. To her credit, she actually made an appointment and went to the school to speak with my teacher.

It was then that I learned adults lied. My teacher calmly told my Mother that I misunderstood what she said while I looked on in complete shock. I guess it never occurred to me that grown ups didn't always tell the truth but this was a lesson I was taught repeatedly throughout the years.

I went home feeling confused but ultimately, I finished the workbook and moved on to second grade, albeit at a different school. I didn't understand many things. As the last of eight children and the only one with a different father, I always felt different. I have been told that I am an old soul, introspective and an over thinker. I can confirm the latter.