Schoolgirl Valette: Best Subject
When we were down in Homer visiting my mother a few weeks ago, she handed me an overstuffed file folder containing every important piece of school report and award I had ever brought home.
You guys, this stuff would have embarassed the hell out of my school-age self. Let's go through it together.
When my stepson saw this he scoffed at how I had read "only" 50 books over the summer until I asked him how many he had read this summer (um, stammer...stammer...) AND pointed out that this was the summer after my Kindergarten year.
Take THAT, son. Beaten by a 6-year-old girl.
1st grade Valette is creative in her stories! This is amazing, because I don't even remember liking creative writing. At some point (5th grade? 6th?) I started hating the whole process of writing fiction. I'm remembering some emotional breakdown when I didn't understand plot structure and there was a graph but I didn't understand it and the teacher wouldn't help me and I got really mad.
Oh man I can even picture the computer lab I was sitting in when that happened. I was so angry I started crying, then was more angry that I couldn't hold in my tears and my teacher just patted me on the back which made me MORE angry.
So. Right. 5th or 6th grade. Now I'm angry all over again thinking about it. Especially since I used to (apparently) love it.
Slow down and pay more attention, she says. Stop visiting with Brian so much, she says. My 2nd grade teacher was kind of mean, huh? I bet Brian was a total babe.
Not that I remember Brian. Only thing I remember about 2nd grade was the little money stamps we got on our desk for being good and being able to buy popcorn at movie parties.
Also wearing my yellow frilly dress on a day that we did Mousercise. I wonder if Brian liked my dress.
Me: "Outstanding Language Arts student! I'm adorable!"
Steve: "Oh man, look how tiny you are! Are you like 30 pounds there?"
Me: "Dude, I was in 5th grade."
Steve: "Also why are you wearing goggles?"
Me: "Those are my glasses, jerk."
I don't remember eating brussel sprouts growing up. I definitely don't remember having to eat burnt brussel sprouts. This could have been one of those times where I had heard about a thing and internalized it because surely loneliness is just like burnt brussel sprouts to an 11-year-old?
Which reminds me about the time in 3rd grade I tried to write a poem about what it's like to be a ballerina even though I had never taken dance lessons - all because my best friend Rhiannon was taking ballet. I read her my poem and she made a disgusted face: "Why don't you write about something you know how to do?"
Wise words, little girl.
I can't help but wonder how much of my cocky 8th-grader attitude had to do with my "different approach" and independence. At least I COMPLETELY agree with my A.
Everyone is a little bastard at 13.
So cute how I wanted to not procrastinate any more. Just don't let 13-year-old Valette ask 31-year-old Valette how that's going.
It wasn't until the end of high school that I received any math and science awards. My folder is full of language arts accolades, and then BAM physics and calculus student of the year. Perhaps I wasn't challenged in them and as such they didn't hold my interest?
There is one thing that did challenge me consistently all throughout my school years: Physical Education. But that's for another post.
