By Robin Weaver
For those of you who know me, I’m sure my school-day antics will come as no surprise. For the rest of you, I promise the following events are completely true. Well, mostly true...
First Grade, Day One: Not having gone to kindergarten, I had no idea what to expect, do, or say. I certainly had no idea where I should sit. Solution: I spotted two other girls with short-curly hair just like mine. That had to be my table. On day two, the teacher separated us because we talked too much. ☹
Second Grade: Michael Kessler proposed. (Spoiler Alert: Although I initially said “yes,” we called off the wedding).
Third: My third-cousin stole my lunch money—a crime that went unpunished due to lack of proof (even though my lunchbox-totin’ cuz never had spending money before or after that particular day). Probably why I became a mystery writer, don’t ya think? My cousin did, however, buy me two ice creams and a Coke.
Fourth: We moved and I was the new kid. Yikes! And my teacher had a moustache! Only she was female. The most interesting character trait to-date and I wasn’t allowed to talk about it. TUT!
Fifth: My younger brother and I were the last kids to get home on our bus route. After the next to last students got off the bus, it typically took another fifteen minutes to get to my house. Yep, it was that rural. Anyway, my little bro—a third grader—decided the driver was taking too long. He decided he could help out by stepping on the accelerator. (I swear, this is a true, non-fiction story.)
What happened next had to be the inspiration for the flying car in the Harry Potter novels. Poor old Walter, the driver and a family friend, never fully recovered from his adrenaline rush.
Sixth: I got to represent my school in the County Spelling Bee. YEAH! I practiced and practiced. Only a few of us remained after round three and I was so super-psyched to get a word I knew how to spell—gnat. Only in my excitement I blurted K-N-A-T. Everyone laughed when I subsequently slapped my hands over my head. It’s been “knawing” at me ever since.
Seventh: My entire English class got a zero for talking too loud, which totally wrecked my semester average. So not fair since the teacher was late. I still can’t convince my mom “I” wasn’t talking. 😊
Eighth: While horseback riding on a narrow pathway with my youngest brother (aged three), the saddle girth became loose and the saddle slid underneath the mare's belly, depositing us riders on the ground. The mare walked over us--so did the three horses behind us and not one stepped on us. We were so lucky. I know this has nothing to do with school, but I couldn't remember a single thing about the eighth grade.
Ninth: Five of us decided to skip class. Only some busybody who lived near the school saw us and called the principal. The woman said we were too far away so she didn't know who it was, but one of the kids was a redhead. Only one of us--the only redhead (aka me) got caught. sigh.
Tenth: We were playing the Blue Devils in basketball (arch rivals) so the other cheerleaders and I made a huge banner that said, “Fork the Devils.” I seriously didn’t understand why we got in trouble. Seriously. 😊
Eleventh: My brother (The flying bus pilot, not the walked-over-by-horses one) won a snooker tournament. Got his picture in the paper and everything. One little problem. The tournament was on a school day, during school hours. Only he didn’t get in nearly as much trouble as I did about the devil fork. So not fair.
Twelfth: I drove an old Simca (with no brakes) to school so I could go straight to work after classes.; this car was the economy forerunner of the Mini Cooper and made today's "skate" cars look big.
One particular day, I rushed down the hall, only to stop in my tracks. Was that my…
I whirled, only losing one of my books.
YES. It was. My little Simca sat inside the school hallway. Near the entrance, but above about 20 steps.
What the heck was I going to do? After a little screech, I decided I’d just drive the darn thing down the stairs. They did it on television, right? Only not having brakes was not conducive to driving downhill—even with stairs. Maybe especially with stairs.
Then I noticed the principle standing next to the door. Smirking. I didn’t see the humor myself. He got on the PA system and got some guys from the Ag class to lift the frontend and push from the back.
I wasn’t even late for work.
What does all this mean? I have no idea, but I think my early academics might have contributed to my writing fiction.
Have an awesome autumn!