Here is a Challenge for all genealogy bloggers. I want you to keep a weekly journal called Sharing Memories. Some of you may recall that in 2010, 2011 and 2012 I provided weekly prompts to help with writing up memories of ancestors and ourselves.
you missed this weekly series called Sharing Memories you might want to
have a look and see if any of the prompts appeal to you. Many readers
asked me to continue with the prompts this year so that is what I am
going to do.
If you write your own blog and you are participating in this challenge, please use the hashtag #SharingMemories if you are posting on Twitter or Google+ That way I can provide links to your blog posts at the end of the week.
The prompt for this week is Grade 1. Don't worry, we aren't going to go through writing about each grade week after week. That would get boring! But we will eventually write about our memories of each grade before the year is over. Next Sunday will be a different writing prompt than school. But for now.....let's talk about Grade 1.
Grade 1. I hated it. I was pretty excited about getting there at first. We were moving out of Kindergarten where I wasn't allowed to touch the books and into a new Grade for bigger kids. I was pretty sure I could touch the books once I got to Grade 1!
Sure enough our teacher gave out our readers on the first day. For those of you old enough to remember them, these were the original Dick and Jane readers.
The reader looked pretty easy to me but I was still excited and at the end of the day I took mine home. I read the entire book that night.
Next day I went up to my teacher's desk and gave her the reader. I told her I had finished it and was ready for my next book. She looked stunned for a brief moment and then she gently explained that this reader had to last me the entire year! There was no second book!
Yep, I was pretty upset. Then began the real torture. Every day each student in turn had to stand beside their desk and read one line from the book. It was unbearable for me to listen to each kid stumble and hesitate over the words. But we weren't allowed to do anything else except follow along in the book.
Sometimes I skipped ahead and re-read chapters just so I didn't have endure the torture. But if the teacher caught me she got mad. It didn't seem to matter that when it was my turn to read I would jump up and read the line super fast, I still was not allowed to read something different.
And so I hated school. I grew resentful. I would think about how it wasn't my fault that I went to school knowing how to read. That the teachers were mean.
I don't know when I started getting into trouble but I'm pretty sure it was Grade 1. I played hookey. I locked bathroom doors from the inside and crawled out underneath. In short I did everything I thought I might get away with. I was incredibly bored and I was pretty determined to liven it up somehow!
I've always thought it was Grade 1 when I started playing hookey but since I was only 6 years old then, I'm rethinking that to Grade 3 when I was 8. I don't see how I could have dreamed up the scheme or gotten away with it until I was older!
Besides my older sister took me to school until she was in Grade 7 when she had to go to a different school than me. So if she was in Grade 6 the last year she walked me to school, I would have been 7 years old that year. And I don't think I could have pulled off the stunt if she was still walking me to school.
So I'm going to omit my story of playing hookey for weeks until I start on my Grade 3 memoirs.