Early school experiences
I woke up today an hour before my alarm - which is pretty common for me - and I couldn't stop thinking about my early school experiences, the things that stuck out, how they've shaped me, what I took from them...
On the last day of preschool, we had a "graduation" ceremony, complete with the four-sided hat and gown. All the kids had to do this play/musical thing. I was given a plastic duck bill and they told me to sing the duck verse of Old MacDonald. I know I was up on stage in front of all our parents, but I don't remember the audience. All I remember is having this plastic duck bill covering my mouth and nose, with my warm breath condensating inside it, having to breathe muggy air while I timidly tried to sing.
After kindergarten, I went to "extended time" for a year before first grade. Or was it between first and second grade? I didn't think much of it... I remember my parents saying something like I was too short, so they were giving me an extra year to grow. Years later I found my old report cards, one of them said "We've given Jason the gift of an extra year!" or something like that. Nothing sticks out about it though... I don't know why I was given this "extra year."
I think it was second grade, partway through the year we got a new student, Robby Reubenson... I'm probably spelling that wrong. On his third day, the teacher pulled me aside, and told two other students who were trying to get her attention that she wanted to talk to me "in private." One of them gasped and said to the other "She just said she wants to talk in private parts! We should tell Mrs. [whoever, the assistant teacher]." I rolled my eyes as they ran off. I knew what she meant. Anyway, the teacher told me that Robby is new and he needs to make friends, and that I should be his friend. I said okay, but I thought it was odd... he seemed to be doing pretty well to me. It wasn't until years later that I realized it was ME who needed to make friends. I put in an effort, but never really talked to Robby that much.
One year, in art class, we were told to draw our "dream house." We had an hour a day, two days a week to work on this. By the third day of this project, almost everyone was done. I had only that day drawn a single line, symbolizing the ground. Art Teacher pulled a desk out into the hall and told me to work out there. She looked at me angrily and informed me that I'd had a week to work on this and so far I have the ground. I remember thinking something like, "she must be really emotional because she's like seven months pregnant." Anyway, I didn't know what my dream house looked like. I was pretty content where I lived. So I drew my own house, with a ladder on top and an arrow that said "to bungee," and I think one or two little add-ons. When I turned it in, Art Teacher seemed pretty underwhelmed with it. I think she commented about how I should have done more, but accepted it.
Another year, my grade had to put on yet another play/musical. We all sang songs together, and between them each student would read some quote. During the rehearsal, Music Teacher dispensed advice for each person. She told me to "be less nervous." Yeah. Be less nervous. Good advice. I don't remember the actual play.
Throughout the years, some of the kids were periodically pulled out of the classroom one at a time for an hour of "speech class." I always wondered what it was, why some people went and not others. I think it was fourth grade when I had to do it. It was a series of sessions with Mr. What's His Face, consisting of little activities, games, puzzles... All I remember was the first session, where I was told to draw a picture of my house. Good. I know what my house looks like. I messed up some minor detail the first time and asked for a second sheet of paper. He gave it to me, and I started over. My second attempt, I got it right. He commented that most kids just draw a simple line drawing of a house and say "I'm done." He seemed impressed with the detail I tried to put into it, how I cared enough to ask for a second try... To this day, I can't figure out what the purpose of these sessions was. I didn't need extra time interacting with an adult. I needed instruction on how to better interact with my peers. I still need instruction on how to better interact with my peers.
I might write about middle/high school later.
On the last day of preschool, we had a "graduation" ceremony, complete with the four-sided hat and gown. All the kids had to do this play/musical thing. I was given a plastic duck bill and they told me to sing the duck verse of Old MacDonald. I know I was up on stage in front of all our parents, but I don't remember the audience. All I remember is having this plastic duck bill covering my mouth and nose, with my warm breath condensating inside it, having to breathe muggy air while I timidly tried to sing.
After kindergarten, I went to "extended time" for a year before first grade. Or was it between first and second grade? I didn't think much of it... I remember my parents saying something like I was too short, so they were giving me an extra year to grow. Years later I found my old report cards, one of them said "We've given Jason the gift of an extra year!" or something like that. Nothing sticks out about it though... I don't know why I was given this "extra year."
I think it was second grade, partway through the year we got a new student, Robby Reubenson... I'm probably spelling that wrong. On his third day, the teacher pulled me aside, and told two other students who were trying to get her attention that she wanted to talk to me "in private." One of them gasped and said to the other "She just said she wants to talk in private parts! We should tell Mrs. [whoever, the assistant teacher]." I rolled my eyes as they ran off. I knew what she meant. Anyway, the teacher told me that Robby is new and he needs to make friends, and that I should be his friend. I said okay, but I thought it was odd... he seemed to be doing pretty well to me. It wasn't until years later that I realized it was ME who needed to make friends. I put in an effort, but never really talked to Robby that much.
One year, in art class, we were told to draw our "dream house." We had an hour a day, two days a week to work on this. By the third day of this project, almost everyone was done. I had only that day drawn a single line, symbolizing the ground. Art Teacher pulled a desk out into the hall and told me to work out there. She looked at me angrily and informed me that I'd had a week to work on this and so far I have the ground. I remember thinking something like, "she must be really emotional because she's like seven months pregnant." Anyway, I didn't know what my dream house looked like. I was pretty content where I lived. So I drew my own house, with a ladder on top and an arrow that said "to bungee," and I think one or two little add-ons. When I turned it in, Art Teacher seemed pretty underwhelmed with it. I think she commented about how I should have done more, but accepted it.
Another year, my grade had to put on yet another play/musical. We all sang songs together, and between them each student would read some quote. During the rehearsal, Music Teacher dispensed advice for each person. She told me to "be less nervous." Yeah. Be less nervous. Good advice. I don't remember the actual play.
Throughout the years, some of the kids were periodically pulled out of the classroom one at a time for an hour of "speech class." I always wondered what it was, why some people went and not others. I think it was fourth grade when I had to do it. It was a series of sessions with Mr. What's His Face, consisting of little activities, games, puzzles... All I remember was the first session, where I was told to draw a picture of my house. Good. I know what my house looks like. I messed up some minor detail the first time and asked for a second sheet of paper. He gave it to me, and I started over. My second attempt, I got it right. He commented that most kids just draw a simple line drawing of a house and say "I'm done." He seemed impressed with the detail I tried to put into it, how I cared enough to ask for a second try... To this day, I can't figure out what the purpose of these sessions was. I didn't need extra time interacting with an adult. I needed instruction on how to better interact with my peers. I still need instruction on how to better interact with my peers.
I might write about middle/high school later.