ed he had not hurled in my direction.

Fourth grade proved to be equally unsettling as two of my classmates threw up during arithmetic. Though I sympathized with them (I hated arithmetic too) I began to wonder if that flu shot I had just suffered through would protect me from a similar fate. Turns out the two victims both had their appendix burst within an hour of each other. Go figure.

As the remaining few years of grade school were equally filled with similar drama, and the only useful thing I remember learning is how to shatter the chin of the boy who just stole my hopscotch taw, I’m forced to conclude that ele

The importance of a good educational foundation in today’s society cannot be over rated. What is learned during those formative years will forever shape the person you will become.

Uh oh! What I remember about grade school had nothing to do with learning anything but survival in an unfriendly environment. Maybe the fact that I missed Kindergarten altogether had something to do with it. Perhaps graham crackers and milk before taking a nap on your own little mat is the real foundation for a successful education.

At any rate, my formal education began in the first grade. My only memory of that time is the crush I had on a boy named Steve. Since my only real accomplishment to date was being able to jump from a high-flying swing, I naturally chose that medium to woo my first flame. So intent on making the best impression I could in the short time I had, I failed to notice that the back of my little dress had become lodged under the wooden seat of the swing. Well, use your imagination. Needless to say, leaving the entire back of my dress in the swing I so skillfully leaped from did not impress Steve…well, not in the way I had intended anyway.

The second grade provided me with a new avenue to amaze my waiting public as I was chosen to play Snow White in the school play. Unfortunately I failed to tell my mother that I needed to provide my own costume until the day before the big performance.

In a panic, my mother finally produced a little princess dress she borrowed from a neighbor. I was ecstatic! It had spaghetti straps and was covered with tiny sequins. Unfortunately that was not acceptable to my mother and at the last minute she made me put an undershirt beneath it. I remember her saying, “If Snow White wants to stay that way, she needs to dress modestly.”

My only memory of the third grade was of the boy who sat behind me and took sadistic delight in marking large checkmarks on my arithmetic paper when we passed them back for correction. His papers of course were always perfect and neat as a pin. I completely loathed him. Then one day when he passed his paper forward for correction I was astounded to find his paper completely unreadable. Turns out he was about to loose his lunch. Fortunately for me he chose to ask the teacher’s permission first and ended up puking on her desk. As everyone in the class was shrieking and running for the door, I just smiled with satisfaction and marked a huge red checkmark on his paper for sloppiness. Actually I was quite relieved he had not hurled in my direction.

Fourth grade proved to be equally unsettling as two of my classmates threw up during arithmetic. Though I sympathized with them (I hated arithmetic too) I began to wonder if that flu shot I had just suffered through would protect me from a similar fate. Turns out the two victims both had their appendix burst within an hour of each other. Go figure.

As the remaining few years of grade school were equally filled with similar drama, and the only useful thing I remember learning is how to shatter the chin of the boy who just stole my hopscotch taw, I’m forced to conclude that elem

d on a boy named Steve. Since my only real accomplishment to date was being able to jump from a high-flying swing, I naturally chose that medium to woo my first flame. So intent on making the best impression I could in the short time I had, I failed to notice that the back of my little dress had become lodged under the wooden seat of the swing. Well, use your imagination. Needless to say, leaving the entire back of my dress in the swing I so skillfully leaped from did not impress Steve…well, not in the way I had intended anyway.

The second grade provided me with a new avenue to amaze my waiting public as I was chosen to play Snow White in the school play. Unfortunately I failed to tell my mother that I needed to provide my own costume until the day before the big performance.

In a panic, my mother finally produced a little princess dress she borrowed from a neighbor. I was ecstatic! It had spaghetti straps and was covered with tiny sequins. Unfortunately that was not acceptable to my mother and at the last minute she made me put an undershirt beneath it. I remember her saying, “If Snow White wants to stay that way, she needs to dress modestly.”

My only memory of the third grade was of the boy who sat behind me and took sadistic delight in marking large checkmarks on my arithmetic paper when we passed them back for correction. His papers of course were always perfect and neat as a pin. I completely loathed him. Then one day when he passed his paper forward for correction I was astounded to find his paper completely unreadable. Turns out he was about to loose his lunch. Fortunately for me he chose to ask the teacher’s permission first and ended up puking on her desk. As everyone in the class was shrieking and running for the door, I just smiled with satisfaction and marked a huge red checkmark on his paper for sloppiness. Actually I was quite relieved he had not hurled in my direction.

Fourth grade proved to be equally unsettling as two of my classmates threw up during arithmetic. Though I sympathized with them (I hated arithmetic too) I began to wonder if that flu shot I had just suffered through would protect me from a similar fate. Turns out the two victims both had their appendix burst within an hour of each other. Go figure.

As the remaining few years of grade school were equally filled with similar drama, and the only useful thing I remember learning is how to shatter the chin of the boy who just stole my hopscotch taw, I’m forced to conclude that ele

o play Snow White in the school play. Unfortunately I failed to tell my mother that I needed to provide my own costume until the day before the big performance.

In a panic, my mother finally produced a little princess dress she borrowed from a neighbor. I was ecstatic! It had spaghetti straps and was covered with tiny sequins. Unfortunately that was not acceptable to my mother and at the last minute she made me put an undershirt beneath it. I remember her saying, “If Snow White wants to stay that way, she needs to dress modestly.”

My only memory of the third grade was of the boy who sat behind me and took sadistic delight in marking large checkmarks on my arithmetic paper when we passed them back for correction. His papers of course were always perfect and neat as a pin. I completely loathed him. Then one day when he passed his paper forward for correction I was astounded to find his paper completely unreadable. Turns out he was about to loose his lunch. Fortunately for me he chose to ask the teacher’s permission first and ended up puking on her desk. As everyone in the class was shrieking and running for the door, I just smiled with satisfaction and marked a huge red checkmark on his paper for sloppiness. Actually I was quite relieved he had not hurled in my direction.

Fourth grade proved to be equally unsettling as two of my classmates threw up during arithmetic. Though I sympathized with them (I hated arithmetic too) I began to wonder if that flu shot I had just suffered through would protect me from a similar fate. Turns out the two victims both had their appendix burst within an hour of each other. Go figure.

As the remaining few years of grade school were equally filled with similar drama, and the only useful thing I remember learning is how to shatter the chin of the boy who just stole my hopscotch taw, I’m forced to conclude that ele

delight in marking large checkmarks on my arithmetic paper when we passed them back for correction. His papers of course were always perfect and neat as a pin. I completely loathed him. Then one day when he passed his paper forward for correction I was astounded to find his paper completely unreadable. Turns out he was about to loose his lunch. Fortunately for me he chose to ask the teacher’s permission first and ended up puking on her desk. As everyone in the class was shrieking and running for the door, I just smiled with satisfaction and marked a huge red checkmark on his paper for sloppiness. Actually I was quite relieved he had not hurled in my direction.

Fourth grade proved to be equally unsettling as two of my classmates threw up during arithmetic. Though I sympathized with them (I hated arithmetic too) I began to wonder if that flu shot I had just suffered through would protect me from a similar fate. Turns out the two victims both had their appendix burst within an hour of each other. Go figure.

As the remaining few years of grade school were equally filled with similar drama, and the only useful thing I remember learning is how to shatter the chin of the boy who just stole my hopscotch taw, I’m forced to conclude that ele

ed he had not hurled in my direction.

Fourth grade proved to be equally unsettling as two of my classmates threw up during arithmetic. Though I sympathized with them (I hated arithmetic too) I began to wonder if that flu shot I had just suffered through would protect me from a similar fate. Turns out the two victims both had their appendix burst within an hour of each other. Go figure.

As the remaining few years of grade school were equally filled with similar drama, and the only useful thing I remember learning is how to shatter the chin of the boy who just stole my hopscotch taw, I’m forced to conclude that elementary education is obtained by osmosis…survival of the fittest is the most memorable instruction.