back to school

This week's spt assignment is right up my alley -- one for which I don't have to show any recent photos! Because, as embarrassing as some of these older ones are, they're not as humiliating as some of the ones that have been taken of me in the last couple of weeks. Sad, but true... (I could only find 5 of my school photos, but I'm pretty sure that's already more than you needed to see.)

This is me on the first day of kindergarten. I never went to preschool, but my dad had taught me how to read. My teacher did not believe that I could read and told my mom that I was memorizing books. When my mom suggested that she show me a newspaper and ask me to read part of it, the teacher had to admit that she was wrong.I was thoroughly bored with kindergarten and did not understand why we had to do such "remedial" work. As I said to my mom, "They want me to cut out the letter B! Why would I want to do that?!"

Apparently this boredom led to other problems -- I began to steal things from my classmates. My teacher struck a deal with me that if I would quickly complete my work, I could retreat to a quiet corner to read. Then she discovered that I was just shoving my worksheets into my cubby, untouched, and going off to my books. I guess she eventually gave up on me, because I got moved to a 1st grade class for reading. Evidently I was placated by this situation, as I don't remember having any more problems in kindergarten.

My kindergarten school photo (I don't look like such a troublemaker!).

Third grade. My first real haircut -- shoulder-length with bangs. I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time. I loved my 3rd grade teacher. She used to play the Really Rosie record for us during art time. I knew every word to that record. Truth be told, I was a little obsessed.

Fourth grade. You can see that big hair was already a problem for me (although fortunately big hair was cool then). I was afraid of my teacher, Mrs. Graves. She had the worst smoker's/coffee breath, so I dreaded her approach. She also seemed to have something against me, which was a new experience, as I had always been liked by my teachers (well, after kindergarten, anyway). I felt sick to my stomach every single morning of the 4th grade.

Seventh grade. I was starting to wear makeup. I wish I could remember how I got those long, nicely-separated lashes.

Eighth grade. This, my friends, is a perfect example of why I don't like to smile with my mouth open. Granted, my teeth are straighter now, but I still don't like what it does to my nose. And I don't want to run the risk of my eyes looking like I'm on drugs. Yikes.

That being said, I have mostly happy memories of my school days. Even though I was terribly shy and always being mistaken for a snob, I did have a lot of friends. I generally loved school, because I loved learning and I did well. (Except in gym. That was the only class I ever got a C in!) Plus, because I always got good grades and was responsible about school, my mom was very lenient with letting me stay home if I needed a mental health day. Sometimes we would skip school to go shopping!

Even though I have mostly good memories, I still worry myself to death about my kids getting through junior high and high school. And I certainly am glad I don't have to go back!