The Little League World Series is awesome. A team from
Petaluma (which is seventeen miles away from my home town) is kicking some serious
tail. I was really worried when they lost on Sunday and were placed in the
loser’s bracket. They won (and I mean dominated) the last two teams they faced.
In fact last night’s game ended early because they gained a lead of 10 points! The
players are remarkable. The 11- to 13-year-olds’ heights and weights vary like
crazy. One of their best players, Bradley Smith, is 6’2”! My favorite player is
probably Quinton Gago (pictured) but they’re all great. Tomorrow during the
National Championship game they will have a rematch against the Tennessee team that put
them in the loser’s bracket. I really hope they win!
Not only does the Little League World Series help fill
the void left by the Summer Olympics, it also helps me remember what it was
like to be a kid. Life seems so serious these days. The young baseball players
definitely know how to be serious but they haven’t forgotten how to be kids.
Watching their joyful reactions and nervous fidgeting brings my inner child to
life. The commentators talk a lot about how many of the boys in the series are
missing their first week of school due to the tournament. I’m mindful of all of
my friends (and my sister!) who are teachers and I’m so excited for their
upcoming school years. It seems like a good time to record a brief history of
my elementary school years and the teachers who changed me forever.
Kindergarten: Mrs. R.
Mrs. R. was the kind of woman that could hug you and make
you feel like you were being hugged by five people at once. She helped me get
used to the flow of the school day (well, half day) and was especially helpful when
I had a hard time learning how to write the number “2.” I definitely remember
the moment I realized I had the ABC’s down pat. I also remember the day Mrs. R.
encouraged me to draw clothes and shoes on my stick figures. My favorite thing
about her class was when we’d all sit in a circle on the floor and she would announce
birthdays, lost teeth, and Magic Time. Anytime someone lost a tooth she’d let
them roll a big dice. Each side was associated with a little prize and it was
always something fun to look forward to. Magic Time was equally awesome. She’d
start by putting red food coloring in a pitcher of water. Then she’d tell us
she was about to add blue food coloring BUT the water wasn’t going to turn blue. What color
would it turn? Purple! The best kind of magic is the real kind.
First Grade: Mrs. A.
When I walked into Mrs. A.’s classroom for the first time
I had the distinct impression that first grade meant business. I mean, there
were desks everywhere! (In Kindergarten we sat at tables.) We had a lot fun
silent reading sessions and I discovered the awesome books of Shel Silverstein.
I spent many recesses trying to catch up on math
problems. I had an obsession with catching bees that year (I can’t remember
why). At one point I lost both of my front teeth. I would run around the
playground with my lips tightly pursed around my remaining pointy teeth and
tell people I was a vampire. That was the life!
Second Grade: Mrs. H. & Mrs. S.
In second grade I got two teachers for the price of one.
Mrs. H. & Mrs. S. split the school day – one of them would teach in the
morning and one of them would teach in the afternoon. They typically met during
lunch to make sure they were synched on the day’s lesson plan. I remember one
particularly embarrassing lunch encounter when I called Mrs. S. by her first
name (“So, Sharon-") and the look on Mrs. H.’s face stopped me dead in my
tracks. During a more enjoyable lunch I volunteered to erase the board (along
with my best friend) and we had a little Les Misérables sing-along.
One of the worst moments of elementary school occurred in
second grade. There was a boy who got bullied a lot (not by me) and my two
teachers became very protective of him. Our class was playing kickball one day
and I think I was playing catcher. During one particular play the boy ran from
3rd to home but someone passed me the ball and I got him out. When
my teacher called him “safe” I was really mad and I argued with her. She said, “Amber,
go inside and flip a black card – now!” For those of you who aren’t familiar
with the card flipping system it goes like this: Everyone in the class has a
small pouch holding a green card, yellow card, red card, and black card. The
pouches are all mounted on a large piece of laminated poster board so everyone
can see where you stand on any given day. If you’re misbehaving the teacher
will tell you “flip a card.” If you’re being really bad you are told, “flip two
cards.” If you’re caught in the act of murdering someone they say, “flip a
black card.” At least, that should be the only real reason for black cards. Not
only does school administration contact your house (red card), you also have to
go home. Words cannot describe how distraught I was. In retrospect I don’t
blame my teachers for trying to protect the kid (who would later try to ruin
every art project I worked on) and it still turned out to be a good year.
Third Grade: Mrs. L.
The first day of third grade was pretty much a dream come
true. Mrs. L. was the embodiment of every kid's dream elementary school teacher: young, pretty, stylish
and nice. That first day she wore a red dress with white polka dots and white
canvas tennis shoes with white lace ribbons for shoe laces. She had wavy blonde
shoulder-length hair and she was the first person to ever tell me the Spanish
pronunciation of my last name. Our class was a combination class of 2nd
and 3rd graders. I remember learning about the planets and having a
special fascination with Venus. We also had a cultural activity day and lunch when
were allowed to bring in a relative who represented our culture. My paternal
grandmother came to school with me and it was absolutely awesome.
Fourth Grade: Ms. G.
Ms. G. was close to retirement and she didn’t have quite
the pizzazz Mrs. L. had. It didn’t really matter though because by this point
the school curriculum was getting a little more interesting and challenging. I especially
like the units we did on marine life and the rainforest.
Fifth Grade: Mrs. B., then Mrs. F.
Fifth Grade started off a little scary because I got the
teacher the whole school was afraid of. To put us at ease Mrs. B. asked each of
us to come to her desk during reading time for a little chat during the first
week of school. She must have seen fear in my eyes because she told me, “Don’t
worry, my bark is worse than my bite.” I felt a little better and she was
really happy with the fact that I liked to read. She was interested in the books
I was reading and I was having such a hard time remembering the title of the book I was currently reading that forgot to tell her I had read twenty-something Boxcar
Children books. I kicked myself for forgetting that.
Halfway through the school year Mrs. B. decided to retire
and a new teacher was brought in: Mrs. F. She was great! I was on the same
soccer team as her daughter and we got along well. I remember taking a stab at
reading Jurassic Park that year (since one of my classmates had made it all of
the way through the book) but I didn’t get close to finishing. I think my favorite thing
about fifth grade was our geography unit.
Sixth Grade: Mrs. F. (again!)
I was very fortunate to have Mrs. F. for sixth grade as
well. I was in a combination class again (this time with fifth graders) and I
knew it was finally my turn to go on the highly-anticipated Ship Trip. The Ship Trip is an overnight stay on a 17th century schooner in the San
Francisco Bay. Each sixth grade class at our school was required to work on the
ship for a number of hours, spend the night, split night watches, and do some
duties the next morning before disembarking. Our class prepared for the Ship
Trip for about two months. First we were placed on one of five teams (based on
our preference) and I got my first choice and joined the Rigger crew. (There
was also Bosun crew, Galley crew, and two others I can’t remember.) After
training with knots, learning ship terminology and taking a test we got on a
bus and headed for San Francisco. I was so excited before leaving my house I must have forgotten to eat breakfast. Several parents accompanied us (they were
called Tall Sailors) and they were only allowed to talk to us (“Avast!”) if
they noticed we were doing something dangerous.
After arriving in San Francisco my class gathered at the waterfront and lined up on the lawn according to our crews. We had to stand in a certain way (very upright and proper) and
I ended up locking my knees. We were singing one of the many sailor songs we learned
(“What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor?”) and I started to sway. I started to
see spots. My hearing went in and out. Down I went. That’s right, folks! I
fainted before I even got on the ship! I’m pretty sure the captain had a good
laugh from a distance. My mom had a good laugh from up close. (Boy was I glad
she was a Tall Sailor! She was able to attest I wasn’t faking. She was also
able to supply me with some much-needed snacks and water so I could get my head
on right.)
We were finally presented to the captain and his officers
who would be terrorizing us for the next 18 hours. I bet those people had the time
of their lives. I’m also pretty sure Ship Trips have been outlawed. We had to
work for about 8 hours and only take a break for dinner. Near the end of the night
my Rigger crew was responsible for hoisting each student (one at a time) up on a
make shift rope swing to give them a view of the bay. The embarrassing thing about
this was every time our crew leader said “Heave!” we had to say “Ho!” super
loud. This probably happened a hundred times at least. After dinner the captain told us terrible stories about what happened to sailors who fell
asleep during night watches. My night watch was something like 4-6 A.M. but before 2
A.M. even rolled around the captain made everyone get out of bed because we
were being too loud. We dragged some ropes around for almost an hour before we
got to rest again.
The next morning we were definitely ready to leave. It
was a really unique experience and I feel bad for anyone who didn’t get to go
on the trip in later years. However, the trip had “inevitable lawsuit” written
all over it.
Just before sixth grade ended I got to attend Sixth Grade
camp. This was my first summer camp experience and I loved my counselors. They
gave each person in the group an award and mine was the “Go With the Flow”
award. I still try to strive for that characteristic.
…..
I wish I had written more of this down 10 years ago
before my memory capacity overflowed with college curriculum, mission memories
and the Portuguese language. Although I can’t remember everything I know for
certain my eight elementary school teachers changed me forever. If your summer
vacation is dwindling down or already expired I sincerely hope you are ready
for the challenges and triumphs this school year will bring. See the best in
every student and every teacher you have. Find value in the assignments and be
patient with peoples’ shortcomings. Be brave in the face of angry parents and
long test center lines. We are always teaching and always learning. Put your
best foot forward and let your intellect shine. And hey - don’t forget to carry
a selection of fruit snacks for any “drunken sailors” stumbling your way. Sugar
is always the key!
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