FIRST GRADE TIRADE

Labor Day is here and tomorrow the tykes & teens all over the country should back in class and my mailbox safe until the weekend.

Vividly, I recall my 1st day of school as if it was just last week. Believe it or not, I was actually looking forward! Heck, school sounded exciting! My older friend Sharla often regaled me with her experiences. I felt like I was missing out! I couldn’t wait!

However once I attended, all of that changed drastically. Now I wanted OUT fast!!! It was nothing like what I expected. I hated being awakened from a deep sleep 5 days a week, I missed my morning TV shows (VCRS & DVRS were in the realm of science fiction then), plus it was torture being confined to a seat for long hours, everything that came out of the teacher’s mouth was boring, and the kids were unfriendly. It felt like a prison sentence!

But the 1^st day was filled with excitement!!! Unlike the other kids who were accompanied by their mommies, I was with my dad. I’ve always been a Daddy’s Girl.

The teacher was a frail-looking elderly woman not much taller than us tykes. My father joked that if she ever tried to shake me, just stand rigid and she’d be shaking herself. We chuckled among ourselves.

By far the most defiant kid in class, the one with the worst attitude, who gave the teacher the most problems, was the Sheriff’s son! He sat in the back of the room, alone.

We had double-desks back then and the majority of us had a seatmate. I spotted a girl named Susan whom I knew and seated myself next to her. Six weeks into the school year, Susan along with her family moved to another state.

Instead of leaving my seat vacant as I would have preferred, the teacher relocated a girl named Mary-Lou from across the room. She was another boney blond just like me.

Within minutes, Mary-Lou accused me of filching her pencil! I showed her mine and asked why I would take hers? Well it was missing, so I must have taken it and she was going to tell the teacher! I peered behind her chair. A pencil rested against the outer back leg. I pointed down at it!

I waited for an apology, none was forthcoming. I figured she was just deeply embarrassed. I certainly would have been!

I didn’t attempt any conversation with her after that. Occasionally, she spoke to me, but always negatively. Statements such as, “Aren’t you finished with your assignment, yet? You must really be dumb!” I tried to consider the caliber of person beside me and ignore her.

Only about two weeks passed and her eraser went missing! (We all had giant erasers back then.)I couldn’t believe it; AGAIN she accused me of stealing!!! -- Didn’t she remember what happened with the pencil??? She should have felt like a fool! Mary-Lou was careless with her things, yet her knee-jerk reaction was to blame the nearest person.

She kept raising her voice threatening to tell the teacher. I looked behind our chairs hoping to see it and quiet her down. Unfortunately, it wasn’t there. By this time, she had the attention of the teacher along with the rest of the class.

“Dianne stole my eraser!” she exclaimed, as the teacher walked over. All eyes were on me! I felt myself redden as I declared my innocence.

My desk and lunchbox were searched. I was forced to empty my pockets. And NO eraser was uncovered. -- Mary-Lou probably left it at home!

“Dianne does NOT have your eraser!” the teacher told her.

But Mary-Lou still insisted I did! I must! Because it was missing! -- I’m surprised she didn’t insist on a strip-search as well as a vaginal & anal probe! But I felt as if all of those things had already been done to me!

I was angry the teacher didn’t force her to apologize for falsely accusing me.

I came home crying! I’d been publicly humiliated. Plus my reputation and character had been sullied and I’d done nothing wrong!

My parents were outraged. They knew they weren’t raising a criminal and this reflected on them. That evening, my mother phoned the teacher at home and demanded Mary-Lou be moved. At least this time, they had my back and I was grateful!

As Mary-Lou gathered up her things she gave me a sour stare. A girl named Jessica was imported from across the room.

Jessica had eyes with high arched brows. A long full ponytail with cinnamon-colored curls cascaded down her back. Jessica was so comely and perfect looking; she could have had her own TV show! I felt as if I’d won a trophy having her as my seatmate.

For some reason, she refused to talk to me! Jessica would converse with the kids around us, but every time I tried to say anything, she would shush me. – And class wasn’t even in session! I felt hurt and insulted. But then I remembered my previous seatmate, I needed to count myself fortunate.

Shortly before Christmas, my parents announced that right after New Year’s we’d be moving just a short ways down the coast to Hobe Sound. But it meant that I would be attending a different school.

There was no “Good bye” between Jessica and me. I hope she and Mary-Lou ended up as seatmates!!!

Down in Hobe Sound, I found myself in a two-room schoolhouse. Here, I didn’t mind going to class as much. This school didn’t suck! Best of all we had solitary desks! My time there was a cherished memory and a story for another blog!