Age 9. Third grade. Gehmans Mennonite School. It was a memorable year, probably because I was miserable. By third grade, kids figure out that the "everybody-is-friends-with-everybody" idea is just so much teacher propoganda. Little girls, especially, can be catty and mean-spirited. For about one week, I was best friends with the most popular girl. We traded notes swearing forever friendship, and she gave me a Smurf figurine. I never knew what happened, but the "friendship" dissolved, and I went back to life on the social outskirts.
Spiritually, too, it was a difficult year. I had recently accepted Christ, via a tract I found in my preacher dad's trash can. It did not include anything beyond the sinner's prayer, and I was very worried that I might do something that displeased God and thus lose my ticket to heaven. I prayed countless times each day, asking His forgiveness for any sins committed in the interim.
Maybe my lack of athletic ability played into my misery, too. Everybody likes to be on the winning team. By third grade, many kids are getting pretty adept at sports. Some are not. I spent most of recess leaning against the side of the building...watching...crying. I'm embarrassed now, remembering what a cry-baby I was!
Academics were my saving grace. Luckily, the school was a bit old-fashioned. Most concepts were taught by memorization, and that suited my photographic memory and visual learning style just fine. Others, through no fault of their own, did not fare so well, but I breezed through long Bible memory passages. I was the first one to reach the summit of "Multiplication Mountain" on the bulletin board. I read voraciously, well above my grade level.
Nine turned into ten; third grade turned into fourth, and one of the worst years was followed by one of the best.
Kate, my daughter, is in third grade now, at Lititz Area Mennonite School. She struggles a bit academically; in fact, it was just recommended to us this week that she join the IU13 program for reading. However, she is graceful where I was uncoordinated and clumsy, a social butterfly instead of a solitary soul, and far better grounded spiritually than I was. Sometimes I call her my "mini-me," because in so many ways she reminds me of myself. But, thank God, not in third grade.
Keith's response to Kate getting reading help highlighted our opposite school experiences. At year-end awards ceremonies, I carted home a fistful of academic ribbons...and realized that "being smart" isn't everything (although it certainly helped, since I wasn't good at much else!)
ReplyDeleteKeith changed schools almost every year and, unsurprisingly, fell through the cracks. He remembers being in special ed classes with kids who had serious mental disabilities and thinking, "Why am I in here? I'm not dumb! I just need somebody to help me a little!" He was popular and athletic, though... and realized that wasn't all it was cracked up to be (he really needed someone to teach him how to read!)
So we shall see how Kate does....times have changed dramatically in 28 years!
Autumn (my 3rd grader) is being tested to see if she needs IU help...I'm not sure if it's just trouble with new concepts or trouble with things she should know. I know that she is not an auditory learner and that she likes manipulatives. So far, I have not figured out much else...
ReplyDeleteNich and I had very different school experiences as well. I grew up with the stability of attending the same three schools my entire childhood - preschool, ASOY, and RFIS. I liked learning. Friends came and went, but I always felt like I had friends.
ReplyDeleteNich, on the other hand, changed schools a lot, because his parents moved around east Texas often, depending on their job situations. He had to repeat a couple grades due to all the moving, the misery was which was exacerbated by the fact that he had ADD (but no one knew about that back then). He talks about just being unable to stay in his seat, getting "pink slips" sent home nearly every week for talking too much in class, finishing only half a worksheet and shoving it in his desk because he lost interest (they made him sit in the principal's office one day and finish ALL of them at once when they found out).
Being married to Nich and knowing what school was like for him makes me a more compassionate teacher. If I ever get my own classroom, I'm going to remember those stories.