Yesterday was a good day. It was probably one of the better days I have had since I moved to Philadelphia almost a year ago.
I have never been a good student in a formal setting. In grammar school my grades were very poor to very mediocre. In fact, I technically failed 6th grade. School was always difficult for me. I could never really pay attention even when I wanted to. I was tragically disorganized, and although I wasn’t what some would consider “bad,” I was a clown and sought attention from everything and everyone, especially when I should have been paying attention.
I attended St. Aloysius in the 6th grade. My parents enrolled me and my brother when I was in the 4th grade and the change of schools was particularly challenging for me, in fact I remember being pretty angry on my first day of school. I was no longer at the same school with one of my favorite teachers, Ms. Hienzman, and I was very anxious about meeting new friends. I was awkward and unsure of myself.
By the time I reached the 6th grade I was a class clown and considered a distraction to the other students. My mother made some notable appearances that year—one day, she sat in all my classes with a belt in hand. Of course that scared the cowboy shit out of me, and I am sure, although I can’t accurately recall, that I refrained from any noticeable antics. I remember close to the end of the year, my mother had a conference with one of my teachers (I hated parent teacher conferences. When I knew my mother was going to a parent/teacher conference, I’d double up on my clothes, because I knew I was going to get a whoopin’ that night) and I was present. I was being drilled for reasons as to why I wouldn’t behave and sent on a hunting expedition for late and missing homework assignments, some magically appearing in the back of the room jammed inside another girl’s desk (don’t ask). I really didn’t know what to say and being so young, I didn’t know how to articulate all of the things going on in my head. I was called lazy, and by the end of the year I was told that I would have to repeat the 6th grade. I remember feeling ashamed and disappointed. When it was all said and done, I simply felt like I wasn’t smart.
My father came to my rescue that summer. He was a substitute teacher and frequently subbed at a magnet school located on Buffalo State’s campus. Although I could tell he was disappointed and initially angry to the point where I was threatened with being sent to 68..
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