I Love to Write
Capricorn in Aquarius - Thirty-Nine
My very first report card in fifth grade was pedestrian quality. As usual, Mari got all A's. I had straight C's - with the exception of Math - my old nemesis. I had a red "D" next to it.
When we were double-promoted, that same year was the year that "new Math" was introduced. That included, in addition to add, subtract, divide, long divide, and multiply, there were symbols of every type and variety. A touch here of algebra, a touch of geometry there. Mari picked it up quickly and forged ahead and did her best to teach me likewise. But I kept forgetting what was what and had poor grades on a test or didn't finish a classroom assignment in time.
Mari, under my begging her sweet nature, gave in and made me a "cheat sheet" (teacher's lingo) with the symbols and explanations. I kept this under my paper in the classroom and used it to answer the pop-quiz questions Mrs. Champlain was fond of submitting. That worked for a while - until one day the teacher unexpectedly came down the aisle and caught me at it.
"What ARE you doing?" she yelled, ripping my test sheet and "cheat sheet" out from under my pencil point. She held it in her one hand high, so she had the attention of the rest of the class. Every head in the room was turned toward the teacher who stood in the aisle and continue to harangue me.
"How you got to fifth grade, I'll NEVER understand, young lady. This is disgraceful. Babies in the primary grades cheat like this - not - how old are you anyway?"
"Nine," I half-whispered.
"Well, we'll take care of this in short order. Stand up."
I did as I was told. I was afraid to do otherwise. She grabbed me by my collar
and hauled me to the front of the room, turning me to face my classmates. I could see a couple of the girls who didn't like me smirking behind their hands at my discomfiture.
"All right - " Mrs. Champlain released my collar and stood behind me as I readjusted my blouse. "Let's see if we can think up a good, gummy punishment."
I wanted to fall through the floor. Only the knowledge that several of the other girls were making silent bets on whether I was going to cry or not kept me from bursting into tears.
(To Be Continued.)
My very first report card in fifth grade was pedestrian quality. As usual, Mari got all A's. I had straight C's - with the exception of Math - my old nemesis. I had a red "D" next to it.
When we were double-promoted, that same year was the year that "new Math" was introduced. That included, in addition to add, subtract, divide, long divide, and multiply, there were symbols of every type and variety. A touch here of algebra, a touch of geometry there. Mari picked it up quickly and forged ahead and did her best to teach me likewise. But I kept forgetting what was what and had poor grades on a test or didn't finish a classroom assignment in time.
Mari, under my begging her sweet nature, gave in and made me a "cheat sheet" (teacher's lingo) with the symbols and explanations. I kept this under my paper in the classroom and used it to answer the pop-quiz questions Mrs. Champlain was fond of submitting. That worked for a while - until one day the teacher unexpectedly came down the aisle and caught me at it.
"What ARE you doing?" she yelled, ripping my test sheet and "cheat sheet" out from under my pencil point. She held it in her one hand high, so she had the attention of the rest of the class. Every head in the room was turned toward the teacher who stood in the aisle and continue to harangue me.
"How you got to fifth grade, I'll NEVER understand, young lady. This is disgraceful. Babies in the primary grades cheat like this - not - how old are you anyway?"
"Nine," I half-whispered.
"Well, we'll take care of this in short order. Stand up."
I did as I was told. I was afraid to do otherwise. She grabbed me by my collar
and hauled me to the front of the room, turning me to face my classmates. I could see a couple of the girls who didn't like me smirking behind their hands at my discomfiture.
"All right - " Mrs. Champlain released my collar and stood behind me as I readjusted my blouse. "Let's see if we can think up a good, gummy punishment."
I wanted to fall through the floor. Only the knowledge that several of the other girls were making silent bets on whether I was going to cry or not kept me from bursting into tears.
(To Be Continued.)
70-79, F
