My first grade teacher died this week. She was 99 years old, which means she was about 56 when I was in her class. All the way back in 1969/1970… Or was it 1968/1969? It doesn’t really matter. It was a million years ago, and she seemed old to me, even then. Yet she was still around, as recently as last week!
She was a nice person, as kind and gentle as teachers of young kids are supposed to be. And she was apparently very good at her job, too. She won many awards and taught at the same school for 45 years(!). She was a legendary figure by the time I met her, and I’m glad to have been one of the hundreds and hundreds of Dunbar kids who passed through her classroom.
Ten or twelve years ago Toney and I were in the Dunbar Library, using their computers, when I heard someone say, “Well, hello Jeff. How have you been?” I looked up, and it was her! My teacher… from first grade. And she’d called me by my name. How is it even possible? It blew my mind, fully and completely.
We talked for a few minutes, and she couldn’t have been nicer. I introduced her to Toney, and she jokingly warned my wife about me. And while all this was going on, I kept thinking, “How in the hell did she remember my name??” It still amazes me.
So, today I thought I’d briefly tell you about some of the things I remember about first grade. It was a long time ago, and it’s kinda foggy. But I do have a few memories…
If you were facing the front of the class, I sat in the row all the way to the right. Behind me was a girl named Arlene, and the two of us talked constantly. And I got into trouble because of it. Arlene didn’t, but I did. Even though she was doing at least half the talking…
One day Arlene kept leaning forward and whispering the word “underwear,” so that only I could hear. I found this to be hilarious, and couldn’t stop laughing. The teacher kept telling me to knock it off, but ten minutes later I’d hear someone whisper, “…underwear,” and it would start all over again.
I had to stay after school and tell the teacher what was going on. I tried to explain, but it sounded ridiculous as the words were coming out of my mouth.
“So, the word underwear is what made you laugh, all day long? Underwear?” she replied.
“Uh huh,” I admitted, trying not to laugh again, after hearing the word two more times.
“You can go,” she said.
I also remember sitting in her classroom as a flatbed truck drove past the window, with a ton of playground equipment loaded on the back. There was a fully assembled slide on the truck, and the sun was reflecting off the metal, and blinding me.
And I recall sitting in a corner of the class, just a few of us at a time, learning to read. Each letter of the alphabet was tacked above the blackboard, and we went over them — one by one — until we reached Z. I was excited when we got to the end, and announced to my mother, later in the day, that I could read now. But she seemed skeptical.
Also, there was a kid in the class named Jeff W. He was one of those people who was around during elementary school, then disappeared. I have no idea what became of him, and don’t really care.
But I remember him emerging from the bathroom, with his pants around his ankles. He shuffled into the classroom, and said, “Teacher, will you wipe me?” There was a tsunami of laughter, and the poor bastard waddled back into the bathroom, with a look of sheer terror on his face.
During that year the teacher was also showing us how dangerous the doors could be, and warning us not to slam them and get our fingers mashed. She held up a pencil and closed the door on it, to illustrate what would happen. The pencil snapped in half, and we all got the idea.
Except Jeff W., that is. Within one to three minutes, he somehow managed to slam his hand in the exact same door, and his fingers were pointing in multiple directions. We couldn’t stop laughing. Wotta first grade douche.
During that year our teacher disappeared for a month or two, and returned with skin grafts on her face. They talked with us, at length, trying to prepare us for this, but it was still pretty shocking at first. I still don’t know what happened, but suspect it had something to do with cancer. It was not pretty, but it didn’t take us long to adjust. She was still just as smart and kind and gentle as she’d always been.
And that’s gonna do it for me, boys and girls. Do you remember anything about first grade? If so, please tell us about it. Use the comments link below.
And I’ll see you again tomorrow.
Have a great day!
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These are from second grade.
There was a girl in class named Diane whom the other kids would make fun of a bit because she was always dirty. Her clothes were shabby, her hair messy and her face was always smudged, but she always had a big smile. I secretly thought she was pretty, but of course I would never admit that to anyone. Once when Diane was absent the teacher told me to sit at her desk so I could better see something on that side of the room. Some of the kids from her area started laughing. “Uh oh, he has to sit at Diane’s desk!”. I sat there and the desk was just covered in scratches and greasy pencil lead smudges. It felt alien but sort of intriguing sitting there. Years later when I saw The Breakfast Club, the Ally Sheedy character reminded me of her.
3 popsicle memories:
There was a kid named Joel who drooled sometimes. I watched him with revulsion one day as he ate a banana popsicle, with yellow viscous drool running down his chin.
During recess we could buy popsicles in the little cafeteria. A lunchroom lady sat at a table and took the money. She would cut it down the middle with a butter knife if you wanted to split it with someone. I had her do this a few times so I could go give half to a girl from another class that I liked, out on the playground. I would just walk up to her and hand her half a popsicle, and she would silently take it. I never said more than “Here” or something, and then I would just walk away and finish the recess. I guess my courting instinct was starting to kick in, but not quite developed.
One time a girl and I were eating popsicles in the hallway after class. I said, “If you stick your front teeth into the popsicle it hurts really bad.”
“Nuh uh!”
“Yeah it does, try it!”
She sunk her front teeth into her popsicle and immediately jerked backwards onto the floor, legs hiked up and panties showing. She popped right back up, smoothed her dress down, and and continued walking as if nothing had happened. I didn’t know what to say.
OK,,,hold on there cowboy…You got some frist grade chick whispering …”Underwear”….to you? If I’m trying to kiss Jeannie Holland…I’m sure as hell gonna try and bone this chick…(horney little creep that I was). If was sitting at the bar at Applebee’s and a chick leaned over and said…”Underwear”…….Holy Crap in a Bundt Pan.”!!
My first grade teacher was Mrs. Fox. She was older than dirt and had also taught my mother. Her hair was white as snow and wildly unkempt, making it look as though she’d been scared to the point of making her hair stand on end. She had thick black cat eye glasses and thin lips that would tighten into a small line when she disapproved of something.
I sat surrounded by four boys. A Bondeson, Jepson, Landeen and Gustafson. They tormented me constantly, pulling my hair and threatening to wipe boogers on me. She seemed oblivious to any of it.
She did, however, tell me I was stupid all the time, especially when I couldn’t think of a word and tried to make her understand by saying it in Swedish. We also discovered when I went into third grade that I needed glasses, which probably accounted for my inability to read things off the chalk board.
I also had her for second grade. Two classes were combined into the same room with her teaching both of them. This wasn’t uncommon due to the small size of the school. Many of the teachers had two grades in each class and would teach one grade, while the others would work on something she’d given them.
No wonder she was such a bitch.
don’t a lot of websites have a series of security questions that include the name of your 1st grade teacher?
Yes they do but I never use it. And if that was my security question I’d always use something that doesn’t make sense that only I’d associate it with.
Doesn’t everyone do that or am I just paranoid?
You are not paranoid if everyone really is out to get you.
When I’m given a choice of security questions to use, I *never* use something of value like “mother’s maiden name”. I’ll use first pet or first car. If I lie, I’ll keep a note of what I said.
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When I entered first grade, I had been in America for a whole two weeks. I remember walking into the classroom with my parents, begging them not to leave as I didn’t know a word of this foreign language, and was intimidated by the jungle of undisciplined monsters hanging from the rafters (even in kindergarten in Russia, you got walloped for being out of line). They promised to stay all day,
So the nice teacher took me on a bantam death march around the classrooms (two adjacent ones separated by a portable wall) and when I returned, those fuckers were nowhere to be had. I’ve been in some serious shit since, but never have I been more helpless. When you’re six the world is scary enough, but only being to communicate “I have to pee” by pointing furiously at my tiny dick is something I don’t wish on anyone.
I remember at lunch all the kids were leaving somewhere, so I followed suit. I was half a block up the street (where my parents said they’d pick me up. That should have been my first clue) before someone caught up to me.
Why are most of my periods commas? Weird.