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!
Now playing in the bunker
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Damn man!
El segundo.
my first grade teacher was ms dorris and she was a mean looking woman but she was ok. i remember my friend tyrell trying to cut my hair with a pair of crayola scissors. it didnt work thank god and he got in big trouble. i remember learning the days of the week, months, etc. i think i stole a book too some hard cover book with old nursery rymes in it. i just had to have that book so i took it and never got caught. first grade wasnt too bad.
Damn! Top ten – first time in a long time!
I remember two big events…Getting sent out into the hall to stand there and wait for the principal to stop by on his hall duties. I confessed I had Jeannie Holland trapped in the corner and kept tring to kiss her.
The second was being too embarassed to raise my hand to go to the bathroom so I just sat there and shit my pants.
Yep, I was in the same class and all I remember is it seemed like someone puked in the floor on a daily basis and old Mr. Echols had to come by with his can of red saw dust to dump on the pile and soak the shit up. Yep, that is all I remember.
The thing I remember most about elementary school in general was what they called back in the 60s/70s (I’m the same age as Jeff) a “Brush-In”. It was a event that happened every year and we had an assembly to brush our teeth at long tables with some foul tasting shit (i’m now assuming it was some sort of flouride or something, I still don’t know!). The thought of them trying to pull that kind of stuff these days blows my mind. “Brush-In”. Like that was supposed to be hip or something. These were the days of “Laugh-In” and “sit-ins” so I guess it made sense.
Happy Tuesday, Surfers!
Sounds like something they would have done at concentration camps, only using battery acid for toothpaste.
I am 49 soon to be 50 and remember first grade quite well. I went to Pecan Grove Elem. I even remember the smell of the school. ugh. Our Principle was Mr. Wright. My first grade Teacher was B. Wilson never married. wore pepto pismol pink outfit with same color beads and ear rings it was more the pink on the label then the stuff it self. The funny thing she had a Turquoise out made from the same pattern. come to think of it all off them were pretty much the same pattern and material. This was an era that they were able to shake the kids and she would shake us. one little can’t remember his name but he was always buzz shaved and wore vertical stripped shirts which made him look bigger than he really was. He use to suck his finger and never really talked. She shook that poor boy every day trying to get him to get his finger out of his mouth and speak. I was the one always doing something wrong and got blamed if when I didn’t do it.
Mr Wilson I always thought was mean and looked like a monkey but really and truly if it weren’t for her I would not have learned out to read and enjoy it. She use to assign us a person to read in our books and told us to read as if we were them. in first grade we were able to leave he said and she said out. because we were them. it was the old Jeff Mike and Mary series. I love those books. and wish I could get a hold of them to teach my son how to read. I married late and had kids late my youngest is 8 almost nine and still can’t read. I just got laid from work so I am going to help him get up to par.
Over the years, there has been more than one occasion when I’ve wished I could get laid from work.
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MY first grade teacher was an old woman too. Our carpet had a design like a city and we had a real working traffic light in the room! I remember learning to read too. I was very mad at the fact that meat and meet were two different things. I remember saying “why can’t we use just one of them when they sound the same!” I was beside myself when it we started working on, to two and too.
I just remember the wild parties and pimpin my first Ho.I was a PLAYER!
Isn’t first grade where you got your sense of humor?
The chubby girl behind me pissed herself and I can remember the puddle all around her desk and her sitting there like nothing happened. I also remember a dude like Jeff’s Jeff W., who use to shit himself all the time at his desk (was that you dto?). When he got up you could see the smashed pancake soaking through his pants.
I can’t remember the name of my first grade teacher. I remember my 2nd grade teacher was Mrs. Downey. My Kindergarten, 1st grade and 2nd grade teachers all had babies during my time in the class. I think we had the same sub. for all 3 of them.
I don’t really remember much of elementary school, which makes me sad. I’m only 34, I should still remember something from those years!
I can’t really recall anything specific about first grade other than I remeber my teacher. So either I had no taumatic pants shitting episodes or I’ve repressed them?
I also forgot how to spell remember.
Miss Malone, later Mrs. McFarland. She’s still around.
I remember not being able to find my desk on day one because A) my nametag was in cursive and B) It was under James. Who the fuck was James?
I remember a sock monkey the sick kids got to cuddle with when they were sick. Not me. Teacher was pissed my desk was a shithole, dumped it over then looked at me and said “OH! God!” and rushed me to the nurse. That’s right I was patient zero for the Chicken Pox. She felt baaaaaaaaaad. Worse part was I was back in school before everyone else.
I also remember watching my soon to be best friend slide down the dungeon (boiler room ramp, 45 deg down about 15 ft) on the ice and come back up with a bloody nose.
If anyone’s curious about today’s Bunker Cam (as I was), here’s more info:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PX_687HwX9c
The next time I hear someone say “the house puked”, I’ll know what they’re talking about.
I can recall the first day of 1st grade, but not yesterday. I recall watching the moon landing in the middle of the school day at some point. At least I think that is right – 1972.
I still have some things from first grade – including the class photo. I know the names of some, but not all of them. There was not that many – maybe 10 students.
I am friends withe a HS teacher I had in the 10th/11th grade. A lot of the other former students call him by his first name – but I can’t bring myself to do that.
The first NASA moon landing was in 1969.
Perhaps you’re remembering one of the NASSA landings. Do you recall a modified Cadillac Coupe de Ville?
My first grade teacher was Mrs. Pallus – she was only there one year – i think she started a family. This was unique as all of the other teachers/nuns were old timers. thus making Mrs. Pallus not only a 1 year vet but also fairly young.
The smell. I remember a distinct smell about that whole school. From the paper lunch sacks/milk scent in the lunchroom (aka – basement) to the smell of old and new books in the library to the scent of incense from the church. The dusty chalk aroma, the lingering cigarette smoke on Mrs. Costa and Mrs. Knobloch, the stale sweat stench in the gym (which also served as the auditorium, PTA/Ladies Guild room and assembly hall). Even the playground – (aka – parking lot) had a distinct smell.
My Grammar school closed this past June because of low enrollment, soaring tuition ad because the Archdiocese of New York said Fuck it – close it. Sad.
Is it just me or is it weird that incense and incest almost look alike?
I’m incenced about incest but I insist you use insence after.
My teacher was Mrs. (maybe Ms.) Mancuso. All I remember is her bringing her husband or boyfriend in, with his acoustic guitar, and letting each student strum the guitar once.
strum once? Was she seeking the next Jimi Hendrix? Once – wow how generous of her!
I remember a big yellow rocking chair my teacher had in the room. One day, she’s out of the class and it’s pandemonium. One kid, David, jumps on the rocking chair and just goes nuts, rocking a mile a minute. 30 seconds later, there’s a huge crack and one of the rockers snaps off. Everyone is screaming, this kid is flipping out and he grabs a huge roll of scotch tape off of desk and starts strapping that thing back. Huge fucking mess but it’s on there. The rest of the day we’re just watching the teacher go back and forth, around the room, wondering when she’s gonna site on the rocker. You could cut the tension with a knife. Finally, she sits, the rocker doesn’t even make one full swing before it sez “fuck it”, snaps off and dumps the teacher right out on the floor. Linda Jane Smith, I’ll give her full name because she was, and still is, 40 years later, an insufferable cunt, jumps up, points at David and screams, “he did it!”.
You talk about people blanching in the face of fear but I never saw it like I did on that kid. He looks at Linda, he looks at the teacher on the floor, his face goes ghostly white and he just slowly put his head down on the desk.
He went gay after high school and moved to West Virginia.
Let me guess, you’re married to Linda Jane Smith?
Divorced actually.
My first grade teacher was Mrs. Billings or Billingsly…can’t remember. But she was 114 years old back then so she’s long gone now. She looked like George Washington’s twin sister. Always skirts that hit her mid calf with a long jacket to match. Sporting those old lady/bad feet/army shoes.
The only thing I remember other than her was my Brady Bunch lunch box with matching thermos. My mom always packed a baloney sandwich on Wonder Bread with mustard and butter. I can still remember the smell of the lunch box when I opened it for lunch.
That lunchbox smell – that brings back memories!
Yes that lunch box smell soooo sweet. I use to beg to take my lunch to school just for that smell and feeling. I used my sisters red plaid lunch box. bought milk at school no thermos it leaked. lol mom would put a small bag of chips a must and bologny sandwhich and sometimes a 10 cent Sydney burger. ( we had a hamburger place called Sydney’s that sold 10 burgers for a 1.00 mom would by 2 or 3 dollars worth we would eat a dollars worth there were 5 us Kids 2 a piece burgers were small. then she would freeze the others and put in our lunch boxes they would be thawed by lunch time who knows may she warmed up to thaw them out, don’t know there. OH that was a sweet smell. Mondays mom would let us take our lunch to school and give us money for milk and rest of the week for hot lunches which were good too. couldn’t be the tacos, beans and cinnamon roll lunch that was a good lunch. cooks new how to make it good back then.
Mrs. Fern was my teacher, I think she still teaches elementary PE. She was super nice, she was also my preschool teacher two years prior.
I liked a toy with a car elevator on it.
We couldn’t take naps anymore.
I sat near the front and the far right, from chalkboard perspective, on account of my name. Our first assignment was to seat ourselves by alphabetical order.
We all had to bring snacks for the class, my mom bought me a box of Star Crunch to bring.
I accidentally broke Emily’s pencil. She told me it was bendable, so I tried to bend it and it broke. She started crying and I had to apologize. That was bullshit, I still don’t think I should have had to apologize, she told me to bend it because it was bendable.
We had to draw a picture of our family on our report card envelopes (since they still sent them home with us then). I colored each person a different color. Since I was poor and we spent all our money on fucking Star crunch I only had the five color Rose Art box. Therefore, I colored my brother green. Everyone thought I was calling him a monster and there was a meeting with the teacher and all that. I remember that Mrs. Fern kept asking me, “Are you sure he isn’t mean to you?” I said, “No, that was the only color left.” Yeah he was mean to me, but that’s not why I colored him green.
First grade was in the same building as preschool and kindergarten. It was a big aluminum building on short blocks, about 1 foot off the ground. A family of skunks lived under it. Since then I, and as far as I know my entire class, have been immune to skunk spray. I find the smell roughly pleasant and nostalgic.
I watched Brave Star cartoons after school. The after school cartoon special was hosted by “The Great Boudini”.
We had PE in and old, old, white building with two giant oak trees behind it. It was the original school house for that are, about 125 years old by the time I got to it. It was used back in the prairie days when they had all the grades in the same room. It has since been knocked down and the trees cut down.
I found out what “retarded” meant. Some of my friends were retarded and it became faux pas to hang out with them. This was the beginning of my downward social spiral.
We learned cursive in first grade, I haven’t used it since the third grade.
A lot of people around me had trouble reading in first grade, I don’t remember not knowing how to read (or how to wipe my own butt for that matter, which some people still seem to have trouble with).
icecycle, this was absolutely fabulous. An update all its own! You cracked me up just as much as Jeff did today. And it’s my birthday, which I spent sitting in a jury assembly room (entertaining in its own way, but not a way I’d choose to spend any day, much less my birthday), so thank you for that!
Glad to hear I could double team you with Jeff.
ice….that was awesome.
Happy Birthday Miss Q!
Have a great B-day, Miss Q!
ALSO, I…ahem excuse me. I was yelling at someone in an email a moment ago.
Also, I have some copies of my latest CD.
They’re free.
If you want one let me know. You can contact me through my website’s contact page:
http://heavyrecord.com/contact_and_submissions
or you can just post your mailing address here for everyone to see.
For some odd reason I can actually remember a few snippets of 1st grade. Can’t remember the teacher’s name off hand.
but things I remember
-introduction to the metric system that was to descend upon us in a couple years.
-The years. For some reason 1973 leaps at me to this day as I had some sort of issue with 1973 for some reason (or it was a demonic omen as that is the year of my eventual car).
-portable standalone telephone system that somebody brought to teach us how to use telephones. Teacher got mad at me becuase I didn’t answer the phone within three rings, I let my fellow classmate hang on the line cause I liked the ringing sound of the phone.
-there was some weird ass new-age b.s. in that room. We didn’t have the the classic rows of desks. It was randomn with a round carpet in the middle.
-there was also an old time cash register that us guys always like to ring up ‘no sale’ on.
-a distinct crayon smell in that room.
-dinosaurs.
2nd grade. THE NUN. And laminated jumble puzzles out of the newspaper. Arguements about Zee and Zed.
3rd grade. Mrs Prendergast. Too much math in that class. We went from carefree to sudden serious school work.
4th grade. MS Couto (sp). She didn’t like being called Miss or Mrs and always made it a point to correct somebody. I didn’t buy that Mizzzz bullshit back then, and I still don’t. That and her fucking folk guitar. Gah… God damn glee club in there. And my two arch nemmesis also. Come to think of it, there was a lot of shit I didn’t like going on in that room. I earned the nick name ‘Bullets’ in 4th grade.
5th. Miss Dyson. Best damn teacher out there. Variety of subjects and she made all of ’em interesting. Platform sneakers. And friday was fun day.
I’ll stop now considering I exceeded the 1st grade limit.
I remember my first day–I wore a green plaid dress with a bow in the back from Sears and brand new Poll Parrott shoes–styling for 1961. We were all given a little Colonial Bread loaf puzzle (?) and one of the girls sat at her desk and peed. We heard it dripping and she just sat there. I’m sure we laughed and I feel bad about that–I was scared shitless, too. My first grade teacher was also my Dad’s teacher and my Grandmother’s. I think she lived well into her late, late 90s.
God Vicki….your green plaid dress with a bow sparked a 1st – 3rd grade memory for me!!
My mother used to make my clothes for school. We’d go to the sewing store and pick out patterns and material every so often. Then mom got a wild hair and started making me long dresses. I don’t know if she was watching too many of The Walton’s episodes or what. But my 1st, 2nd, and 3rd grade class pictures…there I am standing front and center in Holly Hobby-type dresses complete with tux ruffles up the front with a purple and white gingham plaid long skirts. Not to mention my buck teef (I could eat an apple through a tennis racket), and Carol Brady shag hair cut. Sheeeesh!
Yeah…but I bet you had the coolest shoes around.
Prairie dresses, Carol Brady shag, buck-ass teef, and a Brady Bunch lunch box would be ROCKIN with a pair of FMP’s!!
I remember being seated by the ol’ steam heat radiator – one of those huge silver monstrosities. I also remember distinctly the cool hissing sound crayons make when applied to same radiator.
I also still remember the distinctive smell of melting crayolas.
I was then in the front row, the rest of the year.
First grade, 1964, I remember thinking…”I’ll graduate from high school in 1976″…as I sat there looking at my Dick, Jane, and Sally reading book. I thought 1976 was a million years away…
The teacher, Mrs. Baily smelled like a hospital (later found out it was alcohol…vodka to be specific). She wore those old fashioned orthopedic open toes shoes that old ladies wore back then. If she got pissed at you she would yank your ear until it was ready to tear off. I don’t think she liked kids.
I too sat on the right row..under the clock…listened to that thing tick all day. I remember that school room like it was yesterday.
Anybody remember learning cursive via the “Reinhart Method”
I’m the same age as you, but they didn’t tell us the names of the pedagogical methods they used. It might have been the Ludovico Technique.
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I had a spiral green book with examples on one page and then big lines on the other to duplicate what you see. Don’t know the actual name of the method. ’59 I’m guessing.I still have this yellow card with cursive on it showing how to do the ‘big letters’ and the ‘little letters’.
The Cursive cards above our blackboard were the “Zaner-Blosser” method of writing. I still use it today.
I remember the capital Q looking like the digit 2, and even at age 6 I thought it one of the stupider things I’d ever seen.
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I hated the 2-looking Q!
I believe we used the Grönholm method. Effective but dangerous.
jtb
I assume you were also taught speed reading.
In the 7th and 8th grades, we used a filmstrip projector called a tachistascope, which would project a story onto a big screen, so the whole class could see it. It could be set to show one word at a time, or a whole line at a time. The teacher could vary the speed, so you were forced to read faster and faster. If I remember, I got my rate up to around 360 words per minute, but my comprehension sucked at those higher speeds. It didn’t work that well.
It was sort of a combination of speed reading and wing chung. It was like an eternal springtime.
jtb
It seems that it’s always Rodin. I’m forever stuck at the gates of hell.
Wing chung. Is that like chop socky?
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I’m completely drawing a blank on first grade. I remember kindergarten and the rest, but not first.
My ancient-of-days teacher was Miss Hartney in third grade. She had translucent skin and was old enough that she probably went to school with Ben Franklin. She was from Newfoundland and had the accent. Everyone was terrified of her.
In fourth grade, I got in trouble for having a novel concealed inside my “reader”.
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As far as my first grade teacher…I remember her like it was just yesterday. Mrs. Allen. Sweet, kind lady. Probably no more than 5’4″. Grey hair, very calm and when she wasn’t writing something on the board her hands held each other down in front of her. She always wore a smock like you would wear in the kitchen. Colorful. Chickens and stuff on them. Kept her chalk in the big pockets. Always observing and listening. She pretty much had everyone for first grade in my little hometown of 1200. She had my sister who was perfect and three years later she met me. And me?… I shit my pants and am apparently an 8 year old practicing rapest. She was glad to hear I didn’t have a younger brother.
My 1st grade teacher was an angry ex-nun (is there any other kind?) that thrived on rage and discord. I missed over a month of school, thanks to severe bronchitis, chicken pox and the mumps.
My sister was in the 3rd grade in the same school. She went to the first grade class daily to get my schoolwork. The teacher stopped letting her get it after a week.
When I finally returned to school (with an inhaler and many prescriptions), I was greeted with a growl. The teacher snapped, called me lazy, said I’d stay back, then dumped my desk onto the floor and demanded that I clean my trash up.
She only let me make up my work because my mother called the principal.
I saw her years later, and she tried to suck up to me. It took everything in me not to punch her right in the mouth.
I spent at least 3 weeks between Kindergarten and 1st grade in the hospital with a serious illness. As a result I was tutored at home for the first half of first grade by the lady who would be my 4th grade teacher. She was a great lady.
I returned to school about mid-year and the teacher was Mrs. Perrin. Somewhere I have the class picture and can anme a few of my classmates. I still know which classroom was mine, although I don’t recall having a locker.
The desks were arrainged in a U shape around the room. I sat at the top of the U on the right side.
My desk had a number line sticker on it for learning math. I was a trouble maker, and acted up with one or two of my friends regularly. We were idiots, but in my defense it’s hard to find a first grader who isn’t.
My first grade teacher was Miss Miller and what I remember the most was the day we made butter. They had an old butter churn and we each took turns. I remember gettin up there and going at it until she told me I wasn’t doing it right. She came over, put her hands over mine and showed me. She said that I needed to use long slow strokes at first and don’t quicken up until you are almost done and the butter is thickening.
Years later that memory came back to me at the oddest times.
Oh wow! Those were the good ol’ days. I remember making butter also!!! It was like “little House on the Prairie” meets the “Jetsons.” That is so cool that you remember. They don’t seem to teach that kinda stuff in school anymore, so I have taught it to my daughters. Dinner guests at my house are so amazed to have actual homemeade butter!
I attended a Catholic grade school. First grade was Sister Noel and she was evil. She always carried a really thick wooden ruler and loved to smack boys on the knuckles for talking or laughing. She was also an ear puller. Likely a sadist also.
We had to go to a different class room for Science taught by Sister Catherine. She was about 80 years old, looked like a midget, and was wrinkled as a prune and also mean as hell.
That school was run like a military academy until 7th grade when we got several teachers that were not nuns.
I did not go to Catholic school, but most of the kids on my block went to St. Mary Star of the Sea. I remember some little kids playing school one summer; the girl playing the nun (teacher) hollered ‘GOD LOVES YOU!’ and viciously smacked one of her ‘students’ with a ruler.
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in the 2nd grade, I was spanked a total 26 times in one day for various reasons that i didnt understand by this big burly librarian hag.. my dad told me years later that i had told him and he went to the school and got the woman fired.. then it came out that she liked hitting little girls..guess it was a big hullabaloo.
this one kid named david stevenson cried at the drop of the hat so the teacher brought in a refrigerator box , wrote bawl baby box on it and put his desk in it… this was the mid 70s no way that stuff would pass now..
I had a 4th grade teacher like that (Mrs. Hill). There was a boy in class who always slumped in his chair and kept everything a mess. I saw her chuck him hard in the back to sit up straight, not with an open hand, with her balled-up fist. She also picked his desk up one day and dumped everything out in the floor. Just a few years ago, I saw the guy on the area sexual offender’s list. I guaranty you that some of his problems were due to this old bitch fucking him up.
oh and i remember 26 only because she yelled each number out..christ i need some therapy every time i see a wooden paddle..
Hehe…just wait til you go for a flight physical and the Eye Doctor gives you an anal probe. 25 years later the same Doctor is convicted for misconduct involving High School physicals.
I can’t recall any specific grade one stories at the moment. However, I’ve recently had the pleasure of (legally) re-visiting the elementary school that I attended from kindergarten to grade two.
I bought my first house a couple of years ago and it is a block away from said school. They host polling stations in the gymnasium so every time I vote it is a pleasant walk down memory lane.
The elementary school i attended for 1st grade was torn down and is now the site of a Wendy’s. I remember the cafeteria was in the basement and smelled of boiled spinach. I took my lunch most days and you had to leave it on a shelf in the basement. After 4 hours the bologna would be warm and kinda funky. Or the peanut butter sandwich would be kinda oily. The milk they sold for 2 cents was almost always warm. The school seemed old even then and the wood floors were dirty and splintery. I don’t have many fond memories of that place.
Good Morning Surf Reporters….
…my curse is, not only do I remember my 1st grade teacher, I remember kindergarten through graduation.
1st grade… I CAN’T remember what her maiden name was when she first got her newly out of college first teaching job.
…all I remember was she was pretty and smelled good. …plus she was teaching me my ABC’s…
…half way through that year, she got married…. and her name changed… and I was crushed.
…and they call it puppy love…
Aw crap….now I got Paul Anka stuck in my head for the rest of the day.
Thought it was Donny Osmond
Nope…Paul did the original.and Paul wrote it.
Only one way to get rid of that earworm.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ&ob=av2e
Hey, that’s a snappy tune. I think that fucker has a hit on his hands. In any case, like Donny Osmand, he has lots of ‘splainin’ to do.
jtb
What is this ‘Rick Roll’ I keep hearing about? Boy, these kids today with their mumbo-jumbo funny talk. I tell ya.
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My first grade teacher was Mrs. Hoover, who had a head of hair like a piece of steel wool. Same color too, kind of a grayish blue. I recall us making books and doing a lot of coloring, and getting in trouble for constantly drawing tanks and pickup trucks with guns on them. I also recall having a reading group of all smart kids and having to go through a battery of tests in order to see just how well we could read. The next year I got to go to an accelerated reading class and read real books instead of that see spot run bullshit. Turns out at that age, I was reading at a high school level. Thanks, mom and dad, for encouraging literacy.
My first grade teacher was also my Mom’s first grade teacher. Ironically, my first grade teacher’s son was also the Base Commander at a base I was stationed at.
Worst first grade experience was when I had to go out and use the bathroom. I was walking down the hall back to class and a couple older ruffians were walking ahead of me and using swear words. When I got back into the classroom I was horrified when the teacher asked me if I was swearing out in the hallway.
Moving on, my second grade teacher was the love of my life! I thought she looked like an angel from Heaven. However, I was just looking through some school pictures my Mom left when she passed away. I looked at the picture of my second grade teacher and thought, “I wouldn’t try to bag THAT in a bar at closing time.”
Funny how memories of youth perservere. I was looking at my Annual from senior year online a few weeks ago. Wow, the memories in our minds now sure don’t match up to our senior pictures. Seriously, I thought I was a dork, but when I compared myself to most of the other guys, I was slightly chubby, but really good looking. (sorry, it wasn’t a brag).
Now 4th grade was another story. I had Mrs. Hensley. Or as we caller behind her back, “4 fingers Hensley..” When she was a kid, her Mom was mixing cookies in a KitchenAid mixer. 4 fingers stuck her hand in to get some cookie dough…and there we have the reason for her name! She was mean, but really taught us a lot. She had a paddle on the chalk board tray with the words “Board of Education” painted on it.
Best shot I ever saw a person make was when a kid in the very back row was talking. She picked up one of thse giannt chalk board erasers, thew it at the kid and beaned him square on the forehead. She looked at him and said, “No talking!”
And then there was our Principle at the same school. We boys all referred to him as “Peg Leg” behind his back. But he sure held our utmost respect. He was tough but fair. We called him “Peg Leg” because he had an artificial leg from the knee down because he stepped on a land mine in WW2. Yeah, we were ignorant little snots, but we all respected him as a war hero.
I had a history teacher in 9th grade with a pronounced twisted limp – also, I believe a war injury. We called him “Noodlio” because we imagined his leg resembled a Noodle.
Mrs. Schimming. Long passed but truly a wonderful old dear that knew how to handle kids.
She liked me and picked me to be Suzy Snowflake in the Christmas concert but I froze so she substituted Kelly Baker. Kelly went on to be the most popular girl in our class . .while I remained the bookworm .. . who knows what coulda happened if I had been Suzy Snowflake . .lol
No update today, my friends. Wednesdays are tough… I’ll be back tomorrow.
Damn! But thanks for letting us know!
*sobbing softly
>*heavy sigh*<
Sister Felicia. We had to go to Mass every morning.Sometimes on Fridays we would get a mid morning snack of raisins. Not an individual box for each kid, Sister would give you a handful out of a big jar. Also remember the paper we would practice our ABCs on. It was like newsprint with solid blue lines with a dashed line between the solid lines.
Once during a thunderstorm, Sister said the the thunder was angels bowling.
What I remember from school is this: my parents always bought me the 8 pack of Crayola crayons, even though I would BEG them for the 64 pack with the sharpener. Led to a long standing inferiority complex.
When my daughters got old enough for school, I used to buy the damn 96 pack for them nearly every time I went by Walmart! We moved a year ago and there must have been 2 dozen boxes of crayons in our basement. HA!
My mom a few years ago gave me this big fuckin box – full of all my papers, report cards, class photos, etc from elementary school! In a quick glance I noted that she even wrote all the kids’ names under their individual pictures.
I bundled up that box, taped shut, and wrote in BIG letters – do not open this shit until I’m dead!
Those memories are represed, and no way am I gonna un-repress them for the rest of my farking life.
I’m 52 now, and its painful enough for what I CAN remember of those dark days!
Harry, i too BEGGED for the 64 box of Crayolas. My favorite color was Burnt Sienna – nothing even came close in the 8 pack I got.
To add insult to injury, many a time I didn’t even get Crayolas but some knock off waxy shits that oyu had to press about 60 pounds of weight on to get even a hint of faded color onto the paper,
My God. Were you raised by wolves or Mormans or something? How the fuck much does a box of Crayolas cost?
The men in some Australian aboriginal tribes go on thousand-mile walks to find a natural color that’s very much like burnt sienna. I’m not saying I’m one of them; I’m just saying…
jtb
They cost enough that there was only 1 or 2 kids in class who had the coveted mega box of crayolas. They guarded those with zeal.
I am one of 6 kid s- no fucking way were we getting the 64 box.
On the othe rhand, I do remember a lot of Play Do. No “Pumper Number 9” action – just the little cannisters.
I had the box of 64 with the sharpener in the back…(8 year old’s superior smugness look he gave the crowd)….Fuck off!
yikes madz1962…I didn’t mean that reply to be directed at you
(he said like an 8 year old with a pants full of shit)
Oh that’s OK dto!
D you need some terlet paper?
OMG -Wolves or mormons!!! HAAA! i am laughing so hard I nearly peed my pants.
John, we were pretty darn poor, but my parents were all about ‘conformity’ I guess. Teacher would send a list home of stuff we needed, and if it said 8 crayons, I got 8. If it didn’t say 64, then you werent’ getting 64 no matter if the entire school body brought 64 to school!
Madz, your comment made me laugh too – I DO remember the knock off shitty ass crayons, and a few years I did have those too. Gawd, I think they were still in the house went I moved out after high school.
Speaking of high school – ok damn it, this is bringing up those repressed memories.
because we were poor – I had to take my lunch because buying a lunch was too much money.
I was ridiculed incessantly because i had to re-use a grocery store sack or some shit like that, no way could we BUY lunch bags.
I loved Fridays when I could finally throw the bag away like the rest of the human race.
its no wonder I’m fucked up. I think I gotta go down a bottle of vodka or maybe gasoline!
My mom packed a sack lunch for me all the way up until 12th grade! i would stash them in my locker, and pick out the snack cakes, but leave the rest behind to mold and stink up the hallways!
Just another day in the ‘Burg…..
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/46136645/ns/local_news-pittsburgh_pa/
Such a nice day for a stroll!
Was this you?
m: No. But taught her everything I know.
Jeff…
Thanks for the twitter link. I don’t understand retro-post-post-modern representational video, but I know I’ve never seen Nick Lowe and God in the same place at the same time. Forty years later, that’s still a fine song, and, sadly, still needed.
jtb
Jeff…
The Bowling Alley storey in “WVSR Classic” needs to be published. I recall thinking so when you first wrote it and I think so still. Or again. I don’t care whether it’s in the Harvard Lampoon or the Readers Fucking Digest (although you probably do). Please, just submit it.
jtb
Wish I could say I was born in Lancastershire, but I wasn’t. In the US, it’s story. Fuck. Could I spell, I’d be a damn contender. Naw, probably not.
jtb
First grade teacher was Sister Celine. After first grade, the next time I saw her was 20 years later. She recognized me, remembered my name and all sorts of stuff about me from 2 decades earlier.
That’s some seriously freaky shit.
I attended St Scholastica’s and suffered for 8 long years. My first grade teacher was Sister Carol and she was tough but not mean. I remember how the numbers were organized above the chalkboard. In fact even today when I do adding and subtracting of numbers less than 100 I still see the number lines in my head 1-40 on the left wall, 41-100 in the front.
Years later while attending a parade in town I saw Sister Carol, Sister Barbra Ann and Sister Pat after about 12 years or so. They saw my daughter age 1 and immediately grabbed her, started blessing her and praying over her. While yelling at me as if I was still in the 8th grade and ‘suddenly’ became a father.