My writing shows a bad attitude about school, right? Guess what I grew up to be? A teacher! Seems like a strange choice, except for one thing; I love learning. I read as soon as I could. I absorbed conversations and radio shows and newscasts. I studied bugs and maps and tree leaves. I hugged music close, humming and then singing lyrics as I memorized them. I really WANTED to love school - but couldn't. It was big and scary, filled with too much noise, a few mean people and too many strange rules. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't fun. Learning should be fun! Over the years I had many wonderful teachers, teachers who really worked hard to make the mandated curriculum interesting, and to reach every child, and to assist students in achieving their highest potential. But I chaffed and squirmed and agonized as I counted down single hour, every single day, from first grade through twelfth.
I didn't do well on tests. I had a hard time following directions. I couldn't track what was going on in class. My first grade teacher wrote this on my first report card: "Student could improve in school if she would stop staring out the window."
But I didn't.
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