|By: Paul S. Cilwa||Viewed: 6/26/2019
|Topics/Keywords: #Autobiography #EducationMilestone: #Education||Page Views: 1941|
|I did not like my first-grade teacher.|
I found first grade to be very confusing. I was used to people explaining things to me; but in first grade, it seemed, we were just supposed to know.
For example, they had time allocated each day to something called "reading". At the beginning of this time, half the kids were supposed to get out of their desks and line up, with their reading books, against the blackboard, where they would take turns reading, one sentence at a time, until all had had a turn. They would then repeat until the lesson was completed; at which point, those kids would return to their desks and the other half of the class would take their places.
And here was the problem: I was exactly on the line between halves. I was in the middle desk, in the middle row. And I had no idea which half of the class I was supposed to be reading with. And I was terrified of making a mistake (probably because of being given a bloody nose by the principal when I was in Kindergarten).
So I didn't go up with either group.
And Mrs. Buzanowksi never noticed.
So, by Christmas, I wasn't able to read a thing. My mom finally realized what was going on and corrected the situation. But she didn't keep to herself that she was pretty sure I had, somehow, managed to make it all happen myself, somehow.