(Within the first couple months of my grade three year, I come down with a bad case of chickenpox, with strep throat on top of it. While my teacher sends out booklets for me to work on during the week-and-a-half or so I am out of school, I am still a bit behind. On my first day back, I find out that my class had started on multiplication. I’m not understanding anything that’s on my worksheet, so I go to the teacher.)
Me: “Miss, how do I do this?”
Teacher: “Oh, it’s just like addition.”
Me: “Then why is it different?”
Teacher: “Oh, you’ll figure it out.” *walks away*
(I went back to my desk and started work in my paper. I treated every question like it was addition, and of course got all of them wrong. It wasn’t until a class almost a week later that I got it better explained to me, and I was given a times table sheet that I was supposed to have gotten along with the booklets and should have had partially memorized by then. By then, the damage had already been done, and I’ve struggled with math since then.)
(I am working with one child while another sits at the same table and works on his own. These two happen to be related, and it is usually difficult to limit the banter between them enough to make them focus on their work. While the student I am working with explains an answer to me, I begin sneezing repeatedly. Everyone in the students’ family has been taking turns being sick over the last week.)
Student #1: “Are you sick?”
Me: “No, I just had to sneeze.”
Student #2: “You’re probably getting sick. We’ve all been sick, so it’s your turn.”
Student #1: “No, she won’t get sick; she’s a teacher. Teachers have to teach, so they don’t get sick.”
(Oh, if only…)
I am in first grade art class, my favorite. I sit down with my circle of friends at the table and we find envelopes. They end up being full of little weird shapes with triangles and octagons and it is super weird.
The art teacher says we are young and need to try to use the creativity we have. I am very bad at math but great at art and I set to work with my glue stick and all, and make a village with my weird shapes. Most just did small objects that were simple like balls and trees. I made a village with trees and a sun.
Later my mom was called in for me being “too imaginative” and to have me step back because I was making the other kids feel bad with having such special skills.
(My grade eight class gets back from a camping trip to find that the whole school is outside when our bus arrives!)
Class: “Aw, they missed us! They’re all waiting to greet us!”
Teacher: “Wait here. I’ll go see what’s going on.”
(She leaves. A few minutes later…)
Teacher: “Sorry, guys. They weren’t waiting for us. The people repairing the roof set it on fire.”
(In grade six, I’m in a small group doing flash cards, and I’ve known all the answers so far.)
Me: “I see all, am all, and know all!”
Classmate: *flips to a new flash card*
Me: “…except that.”