I bet that gym teacher couldn't spell "synecdoche" if her life depended on it
March 15, 2012
In third grade, I apparently became…soulful. Pensive. "Followed by a moonshadow," if you will.
My teacher was Miss Miranda, and she was above reproach. She was kind, encouraging, and pretty. In my memory, I was taught by Snow White.
Third grade was the year we began having Spelling Bees, and if there's one thing I was good at, it was spelling. I won every freaking Bee. That much I remember.
But what is happening in the class photo? Why was I put in the bottom row, where I towered over my shrimpy classmates? Why am I so spooked? Was I seeing a ghost? Why were the ghosts only visible to me? Were the ghosts responsible for scrawling highlighter all over this photo? Where am I?
I've always remembered myself as a genius student, so looking at my report card for the first time in many years is awfully illuminating. I might have been secretly brilliant, but in third grade I was merely competent. Miss Miranda might as well have scrawled MEH across the whole thing. (Except for Spelling (AND THE BEES!), that is. )
Then again, nothing stands out as especially negative. Nope, nothing at all! Just all the same. Nothing standing out here.
Wait, what's this?
OH YES NOW I REMEMBER. Third grade was the year I met Miss Tobin, My Gym Teacher/Nemesis. Miss Tobin, who taught me what "uncoordinated" meant, and then taught me that I was That Word. Miss Tobin, who regularly pointed out my lack of competency/coordination to the rest of the class, and then berated me for coming up with imaginary illnesses that put me in the sidelines. Miss Tobin, who would regularly ask me why I couldn't be more like Franny, or Jenny, or Allison, or hell anyone else, because I was pretty much the worst she had ever seen!
Look how angrily scrawled those Ns are. I'm picturing Miss Miranda, perched near a window, bluebirds alighting on her, as they did, and she's filling in my grades, maybe singing a little song. That's when Miss Tobin bounds through the door, hurdles all the desks, shoves Miss Miranda off her stool and grabs the report card--suddenly overcome with the knowledge that her previous assessment of "S" wasn't going to send an important message to that Alice Bradley, her EIGHT-YEAR-OLD NEMESIS. Alice needs Ns! AND A U! A U!
I really enjoyed reading about all your second grade teachers. Now it's time for third grade. Keep it up, class!
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Reader Comments (45)
Still not there. Memory doesn't kick in until fourth. Damn, what did all those teachers DO TO ME? Although pensive, your hair is wonderful. And maybe you were spooked by Agatha Trunchbull...wait, sorry -- Miss Tobin threatening the chokey.
Reading your description of gym class, I feel your pain! I, too, am in the uncoordinated club. Down with evil, berating gym teachers everywhere! And don't get me started on Dodge Ball and other games where kids pummel each other with speeding objects...ugh.
From third grade, I remember my Catholic school teacher, Sister Mary Kay, and her severe ways. No hitting with rulers, but stern nonetheless. What is is the deal with nuns who seem to hate kids being teachers?
Alice Bradley! Speaking of synecdoche, have you heard of Pronunciation Manual? It's a youtube channel and a spoof on Pronunciation Book, which provides the correct pronunciation of words. Pronunciation Manual, on the other hand, pronounces words hilariously. Synecdoche is one of my favorite words on there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-n1vGeVIXo (beware, once you start watching you probably won't stop for awhile. some are funnier than others, though.)
Third grade was Mrs. Huband. I remember her as very kind and patient. That was the first year I ever had a class in a trailer. I remember some high school students coming to "teach" us Spanish-- we played some game where two kids would go to the board, the high schoolers would say a number in Spanish, and we'd have to write it down. I pretended I was a genius, because I stayed up so many rounds that eventually I beat everyone in the class and the high schoolers just made me sit down. But really my father had been speaking Spanish at home my entire life, so I was totally cheating.
I also remember that was the first year I was old enough for Goldmind Games (the annual elementary school TAG kid Saturday morning dorkfest). The theme was the Middle Ages; I was obsessed both with my costume and with the illustrated page depicting hanging & quartering in the book my Mom got me on medieval history.
Third grade, the memories are better. Mrs. McLaughlin was a very serious woman in my memory. Blonde hair, and horizontal creases across her forehead that fascinated me to no end. Other than that, I recall nothing spectacular about her.
I was with my best friends ever--all of us in one chatty little desk island. Patty, Jean, Cindy, Denise and I put on a show (voluntarily) that was a pantomime to a Peter Rabbit story record. I was the tree. I remember the moment when the record had to be flipped over (we hadn't done a dress rehearsal, I guess) and I stayed as much in character as I could (shuffle, shuffle, tip) to do the job.
My friend Patty has very different memories of this teacher--it's funny how that happens. She really felt traumatized by a particular moment in the classroom (it involved the teacher yelling at her), and it still bothers her a lot.
More than looking back on my old report cards, I really wish I could meet all my old teachers. Especially the Miss Tobin's of my academic world. Just to see how they turned out. And perhaps to rub it in their noses how well I turned out despite the U's and N's they assigned me.
Ah, let's see. Third grade was Mrs. Jeffries who was pretty and young and had a long blonde perm. She had worked at Shakey's Pizza before becoming a teacher.
In third grade, I was in a combo 3rd/4th class. I recall creating "looms" out of foam meat-trays during the Native American Unit in school and weaving inelegant little tapestries. Also, Pioneer Day. Pioneer Day is very big for California schoolchildren.
Third grade was the only year I can remember complaining about going to school. My teacher was ancient and retired a year later. She and my dad got in a fight during parent-teacher conferences. I got in trouble a lot for trying to read my book instead of paying attention in class.
At the end of the year, she told my parents I was her favorite student.
Is it bad if all I want to do is photoshop a pair of hipster glasses on that first photo?
My third grade teacher is the one who changed my life completely. She taught me I was good at two things: writing and hugging. I'm still good at those two things, in my humble opinion. Now I teach 9th grade, and I'm seriously loving these posts!
Third grade. Mrs. Smith. Large, grey beehive hairdo. Awesome.
She started every class with this chant: I am special, I am special, and you are special, too.
She taught us not to point because "remember, when you point, you have three fingers pointing back at yourself." Which led us all to point with all fingers extended.
3rd grade was the worst year ever for me! I had Mrs Williams. She was mean and nasty! She spanked naughty children with a flyswatter. I remember feigning illness quite a bit so that I didn't have to go to school and endure her nastiness. Then about 1/2 way through the year she died. While all of the other kids were crying and carrying on like they actually liked her, I sat there dry eyed feeling horribly guilty that I wasn't crying as well. I remember planting a tree as a class in the courtyard in her honor. I also remember loving the permanent sub that filled in the rest of the year.
As I look back now as an adult I'm guessing the reason she was so mean and nasty was because she was very ill. I'm guessing I would have very little patience if my heart was failing.
Fifth grade. Gym class. I have just won the school spelling bee. Mr. Sherman points to me on the basketball court and announces, "Good thing she can spell, 'cause she sure can't dribble."
It takes me years to realize he is a complete a-hole.
fancybob: it's only bad if you don't do it.
Third grade? Best Year Ever! Thanks to Mrs. Plant (really her name) who took us bird watching and hiking in the woods at least once a week. She was an early version of Ms. Frizzle. I remember everything about that year so fondly -- which is probably the reason I became a third grade teacher.
Fortunately, no Miss Tobin in my elementary years!
By the way, my favorite part of your report card is that you were graded for taking pride in your personal appearance - how do you suppose the teacher assessed that? A chart with stickers for combed hair and matching socks?
Third grade had an awesome teacher...Ms. S. She baked us chocolate chip cookie bars if we did well on our spelling tests, scratched our backs lovingly with her long nails if we went up to her desk with a question, and taught us about DOLLY PARTON fractions! You know...Improper fractions that are bigger on the top than on the bottom. Hee-hee! She also taught us a sing-song to remember long division. "Divide, multiply, subtract, bring down...Yeah!"
I tracked her down and sent her a letter a few years ago, almost 20 years after she inspired us and we spoke on the phone to catch up. She led the sign language club for a few years, and I am now a sign language interpreter, so I thought she'd get a kick out of that and I wanted to thank her. OH! And she gave me an A+++ for penmanship that year! Not sure why, since my penmanship is now just average, but I must have been going to town on those Cursive exercises!
Oh god - third grade. The year that my mom went back to work during the day and I cried every morning for two months before the bus came to pick me up, mostly because my teacher was "old" and kind of stern and until I figured her out I was afraid of her. But I also remember the woman who came in to talk to us about sexual abuse and the chant that I carry with me still - "Those are my private zones! Don't touch me there!"
I also was the spelling champ that year.
Oh, third grade and Miss Cox! She was fabulous. This was in 1969 and she wanted everyone to excel and let us do what we wanted, within reason. The boys learned math by playing sports with different values for runs, etc. . I was a voracious reader and had read ahead in all the books. She let me take the SRAs (Standard Reading Assessment maybe?). She was very shocked when I worked my way through to eight grade and came to her asking for more...loved her. She also always had tootsie roll pops on her desk. Third grade was the last time I really liked school until college.
O Gym Teachers, tormenters of uncoordinated girls everywhere. My PE teacher was Mr. Burris, who decided that because I was so uncoordinated, I needed 13 outs when playing kickball instead of the usual 3. That's right, TEN EXTRA CHANCES TO HUMILIATE MYSELF. Thanks soooo much. I remember kicking the ball once (ONCE) and at the same time my shoe flew off and went further than the ball. And someone caught the ball and I was out, but Mr. Burris, in his infinite wisdom, decreed that I should run the bases anyway, with my one shoe off and one shoe on. For the purposes of physical education of course. And indeed I learned something, namely that he was a giant douchecanoe.
Third grade was probably the best year of school I had, possibly ever, but definitely in elementary school. My teacher was this wonderful, witty, somewhat caustic and sarcastic woman, who let me do more complicated projects and things than the rest of the class so that I wouldn't be bored. Also, third grade was the first year of the advanced program, which helped a lot, too. One time, I was turning in a paper or a test or something, and she said I should look it over a few more times until turning it in (I was finished much earlier than everyone else), and I insisted I had checked it thoroughly enough and it was fine, so she finally said that if I had more than one mistake, I would have to stay inside for recess for the entire next week. There were two mistakes. I was not at all unhappy about this, because I was not a fan of recess and staying in to help her do random stuff in the classroom was much more interesting to me. (Even as a very young kid, I only wanted to hang around adults. I never "related to my peers", as they say.) After that, we would bet on that all the time, and some of the time I would spend recess with her and some of the time I would get out of having to take a weekly quiz or do some random homework worksheets. I think she enjoyed being my being stubborn with her as much as she enjoyed being stubborn with me. Our class sat in little clumps of desks -- islands -- and the other people in your island were your "team" for the weekly spelling tests; whichever team had the highest average score at the end of the year won a prize. My team won, and for our prize she bought us all we lunch from a nearby hot dog/hamburger joint which we got to eat in the classroom with her. We were all ridiculously thrilled by this, which should tell you how awesome she was. (Remembering all of this makes me realize now why fourth grade was so hellish -- because not only was it shitty, but it was extra super mega shittier having had third grade to compare it to.)
God, these comments are gold.
Aren't they, though? I have some smart and hilarious readers, I'll tell you what.
Third grade was the year we moved back to my grandmother's house, halfway through the year. I don't remember who my teacher was, but I do rather clearly remember the kid who climbed the slide and perched near the top so I couldn't slide down. I slid down anyway. He fell off and broke his arm. I still feel bad about that. And I do not let my children climb slides.
And I remembered something else about first grade. School had already started for the year when we moved. The teacher grabbed the first kid coming down the hallway on her way to breakfast and asked her to show me the cafeteria. "Hi," she said. "I'm Amanda. Wanna join the Unicorn Club?" Well heck yeah. We were BFFs until 12th grade (save for the year and a half that we moved far, far away).
I had so many awful PE teachers... I have LOTS of good memories of school, except for PE. I have flashbacks to PE teachers being completely evil... I'm actually starting to sweat right now just thinking about it. Ugh.
My third grade teacher was Herr Wengert, and it was one of the best years, ever. I loved him. He had a FISH TANK! I was smitten.
Ms. Tobin did NOT want you to be able to turn her N's into any other letter - look how thick she made them. Bitch.
I had Melissa Nathan in third grade. Know the big lesson I learned that year?
1. Adults lie.
2. Just because someone is beautiful, it doesn't mean they're nice.
Miss Nathan was such a bitch to me, just because I corrected her incorrect information regarding Helen Keller. I hope she became ugly in her old age, and suddenly felt bad for being mean to me simply because I was an ugly kid.