It was '95, I was 6 years old, and I had Mrs. Brasco as a teacher. It was the year of many firsts: First grade, first time I had my own desk, first year I wore glasses, and the first (and last!) time I got in trouble.
Back then, I thought those ugly, round glasses would be the death of me. For a few weeks, I would walk into class without my extra pair of eyes on and hide them in my desk. Only when I really needed them would I put them on my face... when we had to look at something far away (i.e. a movie on the television, writing on the chalk board, etc.). Eventually, I kept them on all day because I just couldn't see. Seriously, those glasses were awful. If I had a picture on my computer, I would show you.
Unfairly, I had to move a card once for talking. But honestly, I wasn't the one talking. Someone at my table kept trying to talk to me so I told him to be quiet and the teacher caught me telling him to do so. I was the only one who got in trouble. I was so upset that I cried in the bathroom. When the teacher came to check on me, I had made myself so sick that she had to call my mom to come get me. How embarrassing, I know. But that incident scarred me so bad that I never got caught talking again. I made sure of it.
We had a "class bear" that sat in his chair all week until Friday when the teacher drew a name and that kid got to take him home for the weekend. We had to write down everything that we did together and read it to the class the following Monday. I remember that he was a polar bear and so cute! Everyone always wished that it would be their turn to take him home, it was a special privelage.
We had a one person restroom in the back of the class. I was in there one day sitting on the toilet, and apparently, I didn't lock the door. A girl walked in, looked at me for a second, and walked back out. Another embarrassing moment got the best of me. After that, I tried not to use the bathroom unless it was vital; I didn't want another opportunity for that to happen.
I am pretty sure this is the year I started softball... tee-ball, rather. I remember playing "pitcher" a lot of the time. I didn't like that; I was too close to the batter, leaving me defenseless if the ball was hit in a line drive (ha, right... at that age?) at me... I hadn't gotten used to the game enough for that kind of responsibility. I was in the process of learning to catch, hit off of a tee, and hit a pitched ball. Blakeley was on the team with me and her dad was either one of the coaches or just helped out a lot. I was throwing and catching with him one practice and was doing so well until a ball he threw to me missed my glove and hit my nose. It bled pretty badly and I can remember him using his shirt tail to wipe the blood from my face. I think it scared him more than it actually hurt or scared me. I am pretty sure after that incident, I was less afraid of getting hit and actually put forth more effort to be a good player. So thank you, Mr. Bill! ;)
There used to be a bump on my cheek that had cause my mom to take me to the doctor. I am still not sure what it was, but it was something that had to be removed. I remember when I had it removed, I was told to keep a bandage on it and to not touch it or green would ooze out. That made me paranoid. I would be so careful not to touch it. One day at school, we were lined up outside of our classroom and a girl asked me if she could just see that spot. I took the bandage off for her to see and she took it upon herself to touch it! I freaked out and told her not to do that... that it was going to ooze green stuff now. (I don't think it ever did.) I checked it for the rest of the day, worsening my paranoia.
That year, I also had a terrible eye injury. Blakeley, Austin, my siblings, and I were piled into my mom's van coming back from somewhere when we stopped at McDonald's for dinner. We went through the drive thru so as my mom was handed our drinks, they were passed out to us. I was in the backseat, window to my left and Blakeley to my right. I put my straw through the lid and saw that Blake was having trouble with hers. So she could get it through successfully, she was going to jab the straw in. She reared back her arm, straw in hand and I saw that straw come straight into my eye. If this was a movie, it would have been in slow motion. That is how I saw it coming towards me. I don't remember much of what happened after that until I was at my doctor's office the next morning. Dr. Pilcher had me lay back on that cold, paper covered bed and he put drops in my eye. At the time, it felt like the end of the world and my eye had been pulled out of my head by straw extraction. The doctor put an eye patch on my new injury and told me I had to wear it for a few days. An eyepatch. Like a pirate. Needless to say, I didn't have to go to school that day... for class anyways. Mom let me go to the school to help her sell ice cream. It was always so much fun when we got to sit in that little room in the butterfly garden and sell ice cream. Parents took turns selling every Friday. After selling the ice cream, we went to visit my class so Mom could talk to Mrs. Brasco. I was nervous to go in the classroom because of my new pirate look, but when I walked in, the kids were very intrigued, and dare I say, even a little jealous. That experience turned out to be quite alright, as good as having a straw injected into your eye can go.
Can't remember anymore stories at the moment. If I think of another, I'll tell you in a future post.
Movies seen in theater: 12
DvDs bought: 52
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