Friday arrived! It's here! It's today! If it wasn't Friday, I would definitely have to call in sick tomorrow. We've been very busy in the lab this week working on hall displays for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
The second graders have been learning how to manipulate Microsoft Office Word. They learned how to choose and change their font and the font size. And they created their own Thanksgivingy tongue twisters--they also know about alliteration now.
The year was 1965 and her name was Miss Garrett. She was young and sported a very blond 60s haircut, you know the one--poofy with the big flipped up curls that lay above her shoulders--and mean as hell very strict. There was never any doubt that Mrs Garrett was the head bitch in charge the one and only boss in her second grade classroom.
Back in those days, when people still thought that the earth was flat when elementary school was called grammar school, corporal punishment was a teacher's best friend THE acceptable form of classroom management and, most likely, Miss Garrett's sole reason for becoming a teacher. She absolutely adored made swift use of this method for even the slightest infraction of the breathing classroom rules. The particular method that gave Miss Garrett such pleasure was a ruler slap to the palm of any 7-year-old hand belonging to any second grader foolish enough to commit a classroom felony (including taking too many breaths in a minute, scratching an itch, or turning one's head in the direction of the blackboard too slow or too fast). Miss Garrett would marched proudly towards the cowering 7-year-old and demand that he/she hold out their hand which she promptly grabbed by the 4 fingers--to assure connectivity with said hand--and slap the wooden ruler against the uplifted palm--from 1 to 5 times depending on the infraction.
The thorn in my side during second grade was George--the little George not the big one. LG was a short little dude with straight blond hair and the devil on his right shoulder (no angel on the left side. He gave up and moved on- most likely during LG's kindergarten year). Our class was having a share day which meant we could bring one item from home that was special to us. It was quite an exciting day as, back then, students were not allowed to bring any items from home that were not pertinent to the learning experience. I, on that fateful day, brought in my favorite book at that time- the story of BAMBI. Each student had a turn to stand up, show their item, make a brief statement about the item, and then pass it around the room for the other students' viewing pleasure. Our desks were side by side in a huge, square around the room- when you handed the item to the right it would return to you on your left. When my turn finally rolled around, I made my statement, held up the book and passed it to my right--on purpose because LG sat on my left and I was not about to let him be the first one to touch my cherished book- and sat right down like the good little soldierprisoner student I was. Once the book reached LG's mitts, he immediately raised his desk top and shoved my book inside all the while wearing a smug little grin on his face. (I know I was only 7 but I thought something like, WHATTHEHELL?).
"Give it to me." (whispering)
Silence.
"Give me my book!" (whispering louder)
Silence.
"Give. Me. My. Book. NOW!" (maybe a bit louder than a whisper)
LG took my precious possession out of his desk and handed it to me BUT HE DID NOT LET IT GO. He had put a death grip on my book and I was one pissed off second grader. I yanked that book out of his death grip and whacked him right-up-side-his-little-second-grade-head! That's when I noticed Miss Garrett standing in front of my desk. Wooden ruler in hand. CRAP. This was NOT going to end well. At. All.
Miss Garrett's classroom policy was shoot first and NEVER ask what happened. She was not the least bit interested in whowhatwhenwherehoworwhy. NoSir-eeBob. She merely took my hand and whacked my right palm with her torture weapon wooden ruler and then carried out the same punishment on LG which was totally unfair because all I did was get my book back and, IF I had to be punished, LG should have gotten way more than me because it was all his doing.
Now, what lesson did I take with me throughout my educational years from this experience? First, take care of LG outside the classroom. Second, do not blindly trust authority figures to render just judgments.
At least I had plucked the thorn from my side. LG was afraid of me from that day forward! Which means he wasn't as dumb as I thought he was.
Being a transplant to the low-country of SC for 31 years is still not long enough to be called a ‘benyeh.’ If I stay until I’m dead I’ll probably go a ‘comeyeh’ since I am, originally, ‘from off’ (which is the upstate but, rules you know). By day I take care of my sweet little granddaughter, Baby M and do all those things I did when I was a SAHM raising four daughters which has translated to, ‘by day, I am exhausted.’ By night I blog, blog, blog, and blog some more or I sleep, depending on my level of exhaustion (do they still make Geritol?). I have a very unhealthy addiction to sweets (nearly any kind will do) and all comfort foods not covered under the ‘sweets’ category. I’m known for speaking my mind so, if you don’t want to know, don’t ask me. I love to find the humor in my empty nest life. I live life hard and smack into that brick wall almost daily because I’ve always had to learn the hard way. Why change now? I’m so glad you’ve come to laugh with me as I do this middle age, empty nest thing like a BOSS!
