Tales of a Fourth Grade Something Else
Remember a while back when I told you I had never been a “mean girl”, just a blunt, slightly sarcastic one?
Well that hasn’t always been technically true. (See my post on online deception down below if this slight untruth bothers you.)
From the time I could talk to about fourth grade, I was hell on wheels. I could blame the fact that I was the baby of the family, and my parents spoiled me. I could blame my father, who I easily had wrapped around my finger. Perhaps the truth about little red-headed girls are true, perhaps we really don’t have souls?
Until I reached the age of 10, I had quite a few bad girl moments. When I was quite young, I remember people being charmed by the bad things I said, or the way I’d rudely interrupt adult conversations to give my point of view. I remember my brother and sister’s teenager friends asking me outrageous questions just to hear what I’d say next.
When I started kindergarten, I was placed in a classroom that I didn’t like much at all. First of all, my teacher was very very mean, wore muumuus, and didn’t find it funny at all when I would try to talk the other kids into not listening to her. The first day a dumb boy put his dirty foot on my napmat, and when I kicked him hard in the knee, I got the paddling. Not fair! Not fair at all! Within the first two weeks, I had been paddled 4 times and once in front of two classes. After that embarrassing moment, I decided I had enough!
Fortunately for me, my classroom was very over-crowded, so when my teacher announced that some of the students may be moved to another classroom, I got out of my seat and marched to her desk with a plan. I knew I couldn’t just come out and say, “I hate you, so move me to a new class.”, so instead I went the impartial route, “Mrs. Smith, since there is already another Stacey in the class, I feel it would be in our best interest to move me to another classroom to avoid any confusion.” I’m not sure I worded it quite in that way, but you get the gist. Though for some odd reason, I feel like that my name would have been at the top of that “to be moved” list no matter if I wanted it to be or not.
Once I got away from Mrs. Smith, kindergarten got a lot better! I met a boy. His name was Anthony, and I started my first relationship by kissing him repeatedly under the table during naptime. I’m not even sure he wanted to be kissed, but who cared what he wanted, I wanted it damnit! After a short memory check, I think all of my relationships since then started the exact same way. I guess you do learn everything you need to know in kindergarten!
Anthony and I had quite a few adventures. He was a quiet kid and went along with everything I told him to do, including breaking back into the classroom and into the teacher’s desk to steal my car back during recess. We didn’t get caught btw! My first of a few thefts during elementary school.
My kindergarten report card displays a series of large red N’s representing “non-satisfactory”
Keeps hands to herself: Big Red N
Works without distracting others: Big Red N
Respects Authority: Big Red N
Well you get the point…
First grade didn’t get any better, sure I changed my N’s to A’s, but my conduct grade sure didn’t improve. I remember shoplifting earrings and selling them in class. A girl named Amy bought them. They were only cheap clip-ons, but she gave me $3!
By third grade, I mastered the social skills of ignoring the girls I didn’t like and encouraging everyone else to ignore them too. I remember one girl, who was very nice and sweet. She was so nice and sweet that it was almost unbelievable, and I didn’t like her one bit. My friends and I ignored her all school year, but she was so nice, she just kept coming back asking to play. Years later, in high school that girl and I became very good friends, and I apologized for my childish ways.
By fourth grade, instead of shutting out other girls, I had started to notice boys, and I hated them all with a passion. The many kisses Anthony and I had shared at naptime had faded from my memory, and I wanted blood, boy blood! After many taunts and girls rule, boys drool chants, I led a boy versus girl war. The girls rushed the boys, pulling hair and kicking shins, and ironically the boys fought pretty much the same way. The boys claimed victory that day, though I still call it a draw. I actually have a very small scar on my bottom lip from where a boy’s nails dug in as he tried to punch me in the face. Ohhhh the good times….
By the time fifth grade rolled around, I had matured. I actually turned into one of those fairly nice girls that tried to obey the rules, followed directions and wanted to be teacher’s pet, though upon occasion, during a hot debate, I’d lose my cool and my spoiled bad side would show through.
I actually saw my second kindergarten teacher not too long ago. She has been teaching for many years, but of course, she remembered me. I don’t think many of my elementary teachers forgot me. I remember my third grade teacher telling me she paddled me more than she paddled any other girl ever. It’s good to be remembered!
I leave you with an old, poor quality picture. As you can tell by the look on my face, I was probably plotting something evil.
For little red-headed girls everywhere, be memorable.