History of my life. AKA I should be sleeping right now.
My memories begin somewhere in age 2. These memories are dreams. They all involved dangerous things--tigers and bears--stalking me and my family--specifically my parents, my brother was just an eensy weensy baby at this point and didn't even enter into these dreams--and my knowing it was there but being able to do nothing. I do not remember daily life at this point, beyond that these dreams led me to sleep with my head under the covers where it was safe for years. I think this is a common reaction among children, though--to come up with a 'protection' from bad dreams and refuse to deviate from it.
My memories of actual real life start somewhere like age 3. I remember my preschool fairly vividly. It was in several buildings, little ones that were separated out by age group. Really like classrooms with outdoor hallways. This being California, it wasn't nearly so impractical as it would have been in the Midwest or in New England. I remember the room I was in when I was three had a set of 'stairs' against the back wall--not real stairs, but ascending platforms for us to play on, with a railing around the edge. I remember sitting up there and watching people playing. I also remember coloring and having one girl get mad because I made the mermaid's hair the wrong color. I don't remember what color I made it. I also remember hearing a tape with a scary story. The protagonist kept running into this creepy man. The man would be in a crowded elevator, or a crowded bus, or etc., and he kept telling the protagonist, 'There's room for one more.' And the protagonist would refuse. And then the elevator would break and fall and everyone in it would die, or the bus would crash and everyone in it would die. And he'd run into this man again and the man would invite him into another death trap, saying, 'There's room for one more.' I remember this story being extremely creepy and I have no idea why they were playing it for us 3 year olds. Oh, I also remember singing songs about 'One little, two little, three little indians' and making handprint turkies and things for thanksgiving.
And I remember being four and being in a different building. This one had play stations all over--a table with a train track, a 'house' area, a dress up area, a blocks area. I slept by the train table during naptime and rolled under it so I could fake sleeping more easily. I wanted to fake sleeping because the good kids who slept during naptime got Hershey's kisses from the fairy. Except, since I wasn't actually sleeping, I knew the fairy was really just the teacher. But I didn't tell anyone.
I remember the playground was a big wooden structure, with those climbing platforms and monkey bars and slides. It probably wasn't actually that big, but to a 3/4 year old it was giant.
There was a sandbox, too. And a tool shed. We weren't supposed to go behind the tool shed because there was only like a 2 foot gap between it and the fence and the teachers couldn't see us if we went there. So, of course, every time someone wanted to be naughty, they went there. And there was a swingset, and you had to take turns using the swings.
And then I remember kindergarten. I went to a new school for kindergarten because my preschool, which was supposed to go through that year, closed. The new one was part of a different preschool. It also had a playground, this time with two jungle gyms: one made of metal bars shaped into a stagecoach, and another that was two platforms with a bridge between them and a slide from each one. I think there was a swingset too, but I'm not sure. My most vivid memories from this year involve the assistant teacher, Samir. He told stories, did activities with us--there was a greenhouse, and we grew beans and things in it, and in spring he planted them in a garden outside the greenhouse to grow bigger, and we watched spitbugs settle into the spaces between leaves and stems, and beans grow, and he let us eat the peas when they formed. He showed us how to put crickets in to feed Lizzy, the class's pet lizard. He was amazing--the fact that I have no idea who our actual teacher was, but still remember him clearly, shows that much.
Then, that summer, he ran a sort of mini summer camp for me, my brother, and two other siblings--Max (Kevin's age) and Maxine (my age). I know, great naming on their parents' part. It was at their house, because ours was up for sale at the time. We made boats out of blocks of wood and nails and wax and sailed them across a kiddie pool, and we grew a garden, and we made clay pots and bowls and things, and learned about things like how to make a ball of clay float, and read books, and all sorts of fun little activities designed to keep kids learning, amused, and out of trouble.
And then we moved to Wisconsin, at the end of that summer. We lived in an apartment for a couple months, while we waited for our new house to get vacated so we could move in. I started school. It was first grade, I was not the only new kid so the transition wasn't too awkward, I was regularly bored because I already knew most of what we were learning. Half my class still couldn't read; I'd already read The Secret Garden. This academics being easy and boring thing would remain a trend through about 8th grade, for most subjects. (Math stopped being easy in 6th grade when they placed me in an accelerated class.) I was not a very talkative kid, I preferred to sit around with my book or colored pencils and paper, and I did not make friends very easily. My best friends 1st through 3rd grade were the two special-ed girls in my grade. I joined girl scouts and started playing soccer; there was a huge overlap between the two, and I ended up spending a lot of time with the same people as a result, and we got along fine, but I was never really part of their group. Most of them had been in kindergarten together, and when you're only in your second year of formal schooling, that makes you best friends since forever. But I was fine; I had things to do and time to sit around and read and people to play imagination with during recess and my life was pretty good.
This continued through 3rd grade. After that, my two friends both moved--one across town and to a different school in the same district, the other halfway across the country. I spent a couple weeks not really talking in class--I don't remember much of those couple weeks--and then my teacher arranged desks so Molly and I were sitting in the same grouping. We hit things off rather quickly. We both read a lot, both still avoided four-square during recess (the games were rigged and it was never any fun), and both needed someone to hang out with (she had just moved in the year before and although she'd made friends then, none of them were in our class). I learned rather quickly that she was one of the few people in the world I could NOT make do what I wanted--she was, amazingly, more stubborn than me. I was extremely stubborn. This is saying something. We got along just fine. I continued to scare my parents and school librarians with my book choice and the rate at which I devoured them. I continued to scare/amuse my teachers by getting the material very quickly, being bored, and finding ways to amuse myself. Since these ways tended to be reading under my desk, it was okay. (My second grade teacher had to point out to me that reading during a spelling test would eventually get me accused of cheating. Luckily, she knew that this was just normal behavior for me and not actually cheating.)
This continued through something like 5th grade. 6th grade started middle school. The first year of middle school was very sad because they arranged it so the 6 classes in each year were divided into two 'teams' of 3, and students got moved around for classes (science, math, etc.) within their 'team'. All of my friends were on the other team, so I never had classes with any of them. We also weren't allowed to sit together in lunch--we had to sit with the other students in our class that were of our same gender. I strongly disliked most of those girls. The boys were worse. It was a very lonely, sad year in which I continued to read far too many hours in the day.
Seventh grade I was in a class with Molly and our friend Jenna again. Our teacher was sarcastic and liked irony. It was a good year. Classes--barring math, which I was in the accelerated class for, taking high school level algebra--weren't even enough challenge to think about. Eighth grade was similar. Somewhere in these years I discovered the internet, with all its AIM and its fanfic and its glory. I started teaching myself Japanese by the end of 6th grade. It didn't work very well--the only sources I had were lists of words from the internet--but I did the best I could. I also went through a period of writing fanfic. I did a pretty darn good job, considering my age when I was writing it. That being said, this work will never see the light of day again. But plotting was a good way to spend boring classes. I learned to write in hiragana so my teachers couldn't read what I was writing. I also developed my own code writing, got rather good at writing it without the key, and wrote little teasing notes for my parents to decipher. They never got all of it, but they got enough that I know they tried. I've forgotten it all now, and I don't have the key anymore, but I know I wrote a lot of fanfic plotting in that code.
High school continued in the same trend. I didn't tend to have classes with friends because I took honors and AP courses pretty much across the board, and my friends didn't necessarily. Well, they did in English, but so did anyone who knew what a noun and a verb were. I actually had to pay attention to studying at this point, and work at it, which came as a bit of a shock at first. I got over it. I got good grades in everything except math. I remained a non-social little bookworm. I spent most of my time on the computer or reading. I did not socialize outside classes. I did not socialize inside classes. I ate lunch in the Pursuit Room, AKA Mrs. Schlei's tiny office where she let twelve or so of us invade during lunch so we didn't have to sit through the torment of the lunch room. We talked about books and politics and computer programming and all sorts of geeky, insane stuff. Mrs. Schlei is wonderful. I occasionally met Molly and Elise (who I'd actually met in like 1st grade and decided we were friends at the time, but we'd never been in school together before high school) and May (who was 2 years older than the rest of us and who I met in the Pursuit room, in art class, and in gym class) on a Saturday to go to the mall or to get lunch. This was a rare thing. Usually I was a nonsocial little bookworm who spent far, far too long on the internet.
And then I went to college. And now is now. XD And that is a brief(ish) summary of my life.
My memories of actual real life start somewhere like age 3. I remember my preschool fairly vividly. It was in several buildings, little ones that were separated out by age group. Really like classrooms with outdoor hallways. This being California, it wasn't nearly so impractical as it would have been in the Midwest or in New England. I remember the room I was in when I was three had a set of 'stairs' against the back wall--not real stairs, but ascending platforms for us to play on, with a railing around the edge. I remember sitting up there and watching people playing. I also remember coloring and having one girl get mad because I made the mermaid's hair the wrong color. I don't remember what color I made it. I also remember hearing a tape with a scary story. The protagonist kept running into this creepy man. The man would be in a crowded elevator, or a crowded bus, or etc., and he kept telling the protagonist, 'There's room for one more.' And the protagonist would refuse. And then the elevator would break and fall and everyone in it would die, or the bus would crash and everyone in it would die. And he'd run into this man again and the man would invite him into another death trap, saying, 'There's room for one more.' I remember this story being extremely creepy and I have no idea why they were playing it for us 3 year olds. Oh, I also remember singing songs about 'One little, two little, three little indians' and making handprint turkies and things for thanksgiving.
And I remember being four and being in a different building. This one had play stations all over--a table with a train track, a 'house' area, a dress up area, a blocks area. I slept by the train table during naptime and rolled under it so I could fake sleeping more easily. I wanted to fake sleeping because the good kids who slept during naptime got Hershey's kisses from the fairy. Except, since I wasn't actually sleeping, I knew the fairy was really just the teacher. But I didn't tell anyone.
I remember the playground was a big wooden structure, with those climbing platforms and monkey bars and slides. It probably wasn't actually that big, but to a 3/4 year old it was giant.
There was a sandbox, too. And a tool shed. We weren't supposed to go behind the tool shed because there was only like a 2 foot gap between it and the fence and the teachers couldn't see us if we went there. So, of course, every time someone wanted to be naughty, they went there. And there was a swingset, and you had to take turns using the swings.
And then I remember kindergarten. I went to a new school for kindergarten because my preschool, which was supposed to go through that year, closed. The new one was part of a different preschool. It also had a playground, this time with two jungle gyms: one made of metal bars shaped into a stagecoach, and another that was two platforms with a bridge between them and a slide from each one. I think there was a swingset too, but I'm not sure. My most vivid memories from this year involve the assistant teacher, Samir. He told stories, did activities with us--there was a greenhouse, and we grew beans and things in it, and in spring he planted them in a garden outside the greenhouse to grow bigger, and we watched spitbugs settle into the spaces between leaves and stems, and beans grow, and he let us eat the peas when they formed. He showed us how to put crickets in to feed Lizzy, the class's pet lizard. He was amazing--the fact that I have no idea who our actual teacher was, but still remember him clearly, shows that much.
Then, that summer, he ran a sort of mini summer camp for me, my brother, and two other siblings--Max (Kevin's age) and Maxine (my age). I know, great naming on their parents' part. It was at their house, because ours was up for sale at the time. We made boats out of blocks of wood and nails and wax and sailed them across a kiddie pool, and we grew a garden, and we made clay pots and bowls and things, and learned about things like how to make a ball of clay float, and read books, and all sorts of fun little activities designed to keep kids learning, amused, and out of trouble.
And then we moved to Wisconsin, at the end of that summer. We lived in an apartment for a couple months, while we waited for our new house to get vacated so we could move in. I started school. It was first grade, I was not the only new kid so the transition wasn't too awkward, I was regularly bored because I already knew most of what we were learning. Half my class still couldn't read; I'd already read The Secret Garden. This academics being easy and boring thing would remain a trend through about 8th grade, for most subjects. (Math stopped being easy in 6th grade when they placed me in an accelerated class.) I was not a very talkative kid, I preferred to sit around with my book or colored pencils and paper, and I did not make friends very easily. My best friends 1st through 3rd grade were the two special-ed girls in my grade. I joined girl scouts and started playing soccer; there was a huge overlap between the two, and I ended up spending a lot of time with the same people as a result, and we got along fine, but I was never really part of their group. Most of them had been in kindergarten together, and when you're only in your second year of formal schooling, that makes you best friends since forever. But I was fine; I had things to do and time to sit around and read and people to play imagination with during recess and my life was pretty good.
This continued through 3rd grade. After that, my two friends both moved--one across town and to a different school in the same district, the other halfway across the country. I spent a couple weeks not really talking in class--I don't remember much of those couple weeks--and then my teacher arranged desks so Molly and I were sitting in the same grouping. We hit things off rather quickly. We both read a lot, both still avoided four-square during recess (the games were rigged and it was never any fun), and both needed someone to hang out with (she had just moved in the year before and although she'd made friends then, none of them were in our class). I learned rather quickly that she was one of the few people in the world I could NOT make do what I wanted--she was, amazingly, more stubborn than me. I was extremely stubborn. This is saying something. We got along just fine. I continued to scare my parents and school librarians with my book choice and the rate at which I devoured them. I continued to scare/amuse my teachers by getting the material very quickly, being bored, and finding ways to amuse myself. Since these ways tended to be reading under my desk, it was okay. (My second grade teacher had to point out to me that reading during a spelling test would eventually get me accused of cheating. Luckily, she knew that this was just normal behavior for me and not actually cheating.)
This continued through something like 5th grade. 6th grade started middle school. The first year of middle school was very sad because they arranged it so the 6 classes in each year were divided into two 'teams' of 3, and students got moved around for classes (science, math, etc.) within their 'team'. All of my friends were on the other team, so I never had classes with any of them. We also weren't allowed to sit together in lunch--we had to sit with the other students in our class that were of our same gender. I strongly disliked most of those girls. The boys were worse. It was a very lonely, sad year in which I continued to read far too many hours in the day.
Seventh grade I was in a class with Molly and our friend Jenna again. Our teacher was sarcastic and liked irony. It was a good year. Classes--barring math, which I was in the accelerated class for, taking high school level algebra--weren't even enough challenge to think about. Eighth grade was similar. Somewhere in these years I discovered the internet, with all its AIM and its fanfic and its glory. I started teaching myself Japanese by the end of 6th grade. It didn't work very well--the only sources I had were lists of words from the internet--but I did the best I could. I also went through a period of writing fanfic. I did a pretty darn good job, considering my age when I was writing it. That being said, this work will never see the light of day again. But plotting was a good way to spend boring classes. I learned to write in hiragana so my teachers couldn't read what I was writing. I also developed my own code writing, got rather good at writing it without the key, and wrote little teasing notes for my parents to decipher. They never got all of it, but they got enough that I know they tried. I've forgotten it all now, and I don't have the key anymore, but I know I wrote a lot of fanfic plotting in that code.
High school continued in the same trend. I didn't tend to have classes with friends because I took honors and AP courses pretty much across the board, and my friends didn't necessarily. Well, they did in English, but so did anyone who knew what a noun and a verb were. I actually had to pay attention to studying at this point, and work at it, which came as a bit of a shock at first. I got over it. I got good grades in everything except math. I remained a non-social little bookworm. I spent most of my time on the computer or reading. I did not socialize outside classes. I did not socialize inside classes. I ate lunch in the Pursuit Room, AKA Mrs. Schlei's tiny office where she let twelve or so of us invade during lunch so we didn't have to sit through the torment of the lunch room. We talked about books and politics and computer programming and all sorts of geeky, insane stuff. Mrs. Schlei is wonderful. I occasionally met Molly and Elise (who I'd actually met in like 1st grade and decided we were friends at the time, but we'd never been in school together before high school) and May (who was 2 years older than the rest of us and who I met in the Pursuit room, in art class, and in gym class) on a Saturday to go to the mall or to get lunch. This was a rare thing. Usually I was a nonsocial little bookworm who spent far, far too long on the internet.
And then I went to college. And now is now. XD And that is a brief(ish) summary of my life.