In the interest of getting to know who I am, I’m sharing stories from my life. I call them Preliminary Files and I hope you enjoy them.
In the third grade our teacher was Mrs. Lee. I only remember that because the bigger kids called us Lee’s peas.
One day Mrs. Lee told us to bring a styrofoam meat tray to class the following day. Mom was weirded out by the request becuase meat is apparently dangerous if any residue from it is left on a surface. So we washed it thoroughly… three times.
I took it to school the next day, dying of curiosity about how it would be used. When Mrs. Lee told us we were going to make a gingerbread man, the response was luke warm. But after we got started, it became very enjoyable.
When we finished art, it was time to head for the bus to go home. I had a jumble of books and papers that I had to carry. They hadn’t invented book bags yet. I struggled trying to figure out where to put the gingerbread man. Finally I opted to hold it in front of my armload of books.
What the heck, I thought. Maybe someone will see it and admire its craftsmanship. I was proud of my work on it.
On the way to the bus, a girl from sixth grade said, “Oh isn’t that cute? Holding up his little gingerbread man for all to see.”
It was sarcasm in it’s most extreme. Spoken in a sing-song tone with emphasis on the “T” sound in the word “little.”
I was horrified. I tried to be mad at the injustice of the embarrassment, but she had called it like she saw it. And I was guilty as charged.
I got over it fairly quickly, but something told me sixth grade girls were not to be trusted.
(My Lesson: Sometimes people accuse us of doing things we are actually doing. It’s a lot easier to get over the embarrassment when the accusation is not false. And; sixth grade girls usually turn out all right after all.)