The August list

[serene]

Age 3: I remember going to see my mom in the hospital when she had my brother, so it must have been in Bremerton, WA. I remember that she had on bright, red lipstick and was smiling at me through a window. At one point, she told me that I couldn't be remembering right because of the window, but now she remembers it as I do -- I don't know whose memory of reality was correct.

Age 4: I remember reading the Childcraft Encyclopedia out loud at the kitchen table because my mother was too busy with the baby to read to me, so she told me to try to do it myself. I did it, and was reading actual books by the time I started kindergarten.

Age 5: Mrs. Urbanek was my Catholic-school-kindergarten teacher. She had two favorites in our class, and I swear I remember their names as Jack and Jill. Anyway, she gave out yellow tickets to us any time we misbehaved. During naptime, Jack and Jill handed them out if our eyes were open. I've never been able to sleep on command, so I got one almost every day. At the end of the day, Mrs. Urbanek used a yellow paddle that matched the tickets to spank you as many times as you had tickets. I was spanked every day. One day, I decided I was not going to be spanked. I closed my eyes tightly, and when naptime was over, I kept them closed. The other kids tried to wake me by shaking me, and even hitting my head with blocks, but I wouldn't wake up. I have always been kind of proud of my stupid little protest.

Age 6: Got my legs operated on (I was born severely pigeon-toed, and could barely walk by the time I was six). The doctor gave me bright pink casts.

Age 7: My mom and dad were separated, but I didn't know it -- we were told he was out to sea, which was common. We lived with my Aunt Sandy in Philadelphia, and I was terrified of her. My dad brought me a large, stuffed turtle for my seventh birthday. I'm not sure how his presence was explained to us.

Age 8: Moved to Spain, started fourth grade by walking into the right classroom, but since there was a substitute and she wasn't Mrs. Friedman, thought I was in the wrong room. Started off the day confused and embarrassed, but met the girl that would be my closest friend in Spain that day, and I still hear from her from time to time.

Age 9: Fifth grade. The teacher was Mr. Comito ("Mr. Come-eat-my-toes" -- his wife was "Mrs. Come-eat-my-pantyhose", and she taught third grade, I think), and he looked a lot like Mr. Kotter. I remember a boy punched me in the chest one day, and the whole class got a classic '70s-feminist-guy lecture about how a girl could develop breast cancer if she had too much trauma to her chest and women are too valuable to treat that way. Life was weird in 1975.

Comments

[circumspectly.livejournal.com]

i *love* your kindergarten protest! when i was in kindergarten, my teacher was a mean ole bitty named mrs. george (she really was old...she retired right after school that year) who would NOT let me go to the bathroom...i asked several times and she wouldn't let me go, so i peed my pants. for my trouble i got to go to my grammie's house (2 blocks from school) and hang out with her for the rest of the day while she listened to me moan about how the teacher wouldn't let me go potty. she came down on teacher like a ton of bricks. yay me. LOL.