The Terrible Catsafterme

Brad's Musings and Meanderings

random acts of quoting

"I was thinkin' of growing a moustache, but they don't let you wear 'em at Annapolis." - Eddie Haskell, "Leave It to Beaver"

third3My third grade year from 1980-81 had seen a lot of memorable events, so I was sad to see it end that June. I had had two teachers in Mrs. Corn and Mrs. Rhea and had gotten a taste of ‘switching’ classes going to Mrs. McCoy for math. Mrs. McCoy was the quintessential teacher-type – tall, gray hair, and glasses (reminding me a bit of my Grandma Range). She had a great setup of kids’ books in her room, lining the perimeter of two walls. I was so inspired by this that I attempted to create a ‘reading center’ in my own room to not much avail.

I had won the Young Authors contest with my book From Worst to Best and had made a new friend in Matt Swisher, while staying best friends with my longtime pal Sunil Doshi. In Matt, I also found a fellow Beatles buff after the death of John Lennon had prompted me to begin worshiping The Beatles. Unfortunately, I had the annoying habit of asking Matt often to ‘rate’ me as a friend. I have no idea where this irritating personality quirk came from, but I would assume that it reflected a bit of a self-esteem problem.

I also continued my self-flagellation of attempting to play the high-energy sport of soccer. This was my second and final year of this outdoor tortue. While the previous year had seen my soccer team consist of kids that were my age or younger, somehow this year I wound up on a team with all older kids. Older kids who hated me. This must have been designed as a third and fourth grade team. We played both in the Fall of ’80 and then again in the Spring of ’81. We went by the name The Fairbrook Steelers. How absurd.

As an obnoxious third grader with a bowl cut and a dirty neck, I was picked on from day one by some of my superiors. I remember getting special permission from my mom to stand up for myself and cuss at them one time. Me and my four-foot-three frame covered in seventy pounds of sinewy muscle. It may have been this experience that put a mean streak into me that survives to this day! All in all, it was just another brick in the wall.

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Stupid crummy team. Coaches Mr. Feltz, Mr. Baker, and Mr. Baker (sounds like the bizarro Stooges!). Middle row: Sarah Sedlacek, Brad Black, John Feltz, Matt Crowley, Rex Baker, Jim Martin. Up front: Ken Rundell, Bobby Cavanaugh, me, Daniel Baker, Jason Puskar, Matt Benson

What follows is my report card from my third grade year, which shows a hint of a problem that would plague me all through school: not trying to live up to my potential. I always found grade school so easy that I simply was not challenged, and therefore would sometimes put forth so little effort that occasionally it would actually reflect in my grades. The following year would offer somewhat of a remedy as I began a special program that would challenge me.

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This report card represents the last of my primary grades where we were graded on on our effort: strong, satisfactory, or minimal. Fourth grade would see the start of the Intermediate grades and we’d begin the traditional system of A’s and B’s.

But first there would be Summer!

1981 will continue

One Response to “Third Grade Ends”

  1. I had Mrs. McCoy in third grade (a couple years later) and Matt Swisher lived in my neighborhood (I lived on Silver Crest Terrace at that time).

    Mark

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