Mrs. Kao thought I was a nice boy, but I talked too much. She once complained about the length of my hair, so my parents cut it. I guess we didn't learn to smile until the early 70s. John Lafond is in the front row. John, Tim Ray, and I drove to the prom together. Oddly I was the only guy in that car with a date, and probably the only guy at the prom who didn't get any. The 3 of us there wearing hats.
1st grade was the only year I got sent to the principal's office for fighting. It was also the year I split my head open while sliding under a barbed wire fence. They had to shave a reverse Mohawk over the top, so they could stitch me up. It was a popular show and tell, everyone wanted to see how gross my head looked. I'm always afraid that if I go bald I'll have a Frankenstein scar, or look like a Klingon.
I don't have a 2nd grade class picture. If anyone was in my class, please send one along. Thanks! Mrs. Kussrow had faith in my abilities in 1972, I think things started on a downward spiral after that. I went to the principal's office for throwing a snow ball at Susan Karwacki, but she threw one first.
I sat in there and stared at an ant farm,
comtemplating the injustice of the world.
I broke my arms in a rope swing tragedy, sadly before the video era. I think I befriended Jim Cardwell around this time. But no matter how many times we get together, or how many beers we drink, the details fail to coalesce. Unless I'm misremembering Miss Williams was very cute. I remember happily staying after school to make construction paper buffalos
for her Plains Indians bulletin board.
I need a class photo!
I think Mr. Heitmuller let someone take the class's pet guinea pig home over a holiday break, and it died. Or I might have dreamed that. I also think he read "My Side of the Mountain" to us, and I thought that was pretty cool.
I often wish I lived alone in a tree.
3rd grade was a personal high water mark for buffoonery, but in the 5th grade I reached my clownish peak. When Ms. Cox arranged us on the floor for reading time, I would wait for the perfect moment to make farting noises, by squeezing my palms together. She would whip those long arms around and slap me in the head. Corporal punishment at its best,
and in good fun, and no doubt well deserved :)
Mrs. Warshaw was the only teacher in my "pod" to go on strike that year. I wrote a poem about it for her, and I think my mom still has a copy of it somewhere. The only thing I remember learning in 6th grade is the dramatic effect pregnancy has on the female body.
I don't think she ever wore a bra, God bless her.
Mr. Hurley was scandalized that I watched every episode of the 1st season of Charlie's Angels. It wasn't that the show was vapid and virtually without merit, he just thought it was past my bedtime. I want to thank the girl in the upper left for suggesting I read The Hobbit, but I can't remember her name. Steve Klages and I would laugh about the
previous day's Get Smart rerun on CH45.
P.S. Plaid was in.