I still don't need glasses, by the way

For the next two weeks, I'm participating in the DonorsChoose Blogger Challenge. Donate any amount up to $100 and enter the match code FINSLIPPY at checkout, and your donation will be matched. Thanks to DonorsChoose.org, I can match up to $50,000. We've already raised almost $1000 and completed two classroom projects! Thank you!

Yesterday we covered kindergarten, and you saw my squarehead and poor grades. In first grade my head became much more regular-shaped:

COME ON. I was so cute. (I remember being desperately in love with that dress. And then I spilled chocolate milk all over it during lunch that day. Heartbreak!)

While I don't have a copy of my actual grades (most of what I have here is what my parents pasted into a scrapbook for me), I do have some hilarious teacher comments.

You see that part about the glasses? Funny thing: I didn't wear glasses. What I did wear to school one day was an old pair of my sister's glasses. I must have stumbled around completely blind on that day. Then I came to school the next day with no glasses, and claimed they were getting repaired at the "Hillman-Cohen Vision Center," and until I got them back I was sadly unable to complete any work. This is not a real place. There was a Cohen's, but I added the "Hillman" for mysterious reasons. Maybe I thought if I made it extra Jewish it would be more believable?

I also like the part about how I Mother the other students. Capital M!

My first grade teacher was Mr. Enea, and I loved him. He let me read books from the sixth grade classroom, and he also let me go to the nurse's office whenever I asked to, which was an awful lot. (I was…anxious. You're surprised?) He was a warm and lighthearted teacher, and not someone who would yell at me for forgetting to put my coat in the right cubby. (I'm still mad at that kindergarten teacher! Boo! BOOO!) Mostly what I remember from that year was feeling relief. I could be weird and quirky and it was okay by Mr. Enea.

Next up: second grade. Also known as "The Year I Peed My Pants A Whole Bunch."

Good news: I finally learned how to skip!

I'm participating in the DonorsChoose Blogger Challenge this year! Donors Choose is an online charity organization that sends money directly to classrooms in need. You can choose which classroom projects you want to support and find out about the teachers and students you'll be helping. So many teachers are hampered by supply needs as mundane as pencil sharpeners and rulers, and we can help, immediately and directly. It's incredibly rewarding!

Here's the best part: if you donate any amount up to $100 and enter the match code FINSLIPPY at checkout, your donation will be matched. Doubled! It's like magic. Thanks to DonorsChoose.org, I can match up to $50,000. That's a lot of help to a whole bunch of worthy, struggling classrooms.

I'll be participating in the Challenge for the next two weeks, during which I'll be posting embarrassing school-related pictures and/or memories. Brace yourselves. It's going to get awkward around here.

And now... me in kindergarten.

I've never been lovelier!

I don't know what's up with me in this picture. My first grade photo is infinitely cuter. I just look so…rectangular, here. Rectangular, and nonplussed.That haircut is doing nothing for me. Would it have killed someone to put a comb through my hair? It looks like I just endured a vigorous noogie.

Here's my report card, which should be titled, "Lower Your Academic Expectations For This Kid, Mr. and Mrs. Bradley."

Full name and address? N.
Telephone number? N.
Ugh. Ability to tie shoes? N.
Ability to work independently? N.
Can skip/jump/hop without breaking something? N.
Can she color in the lines, for the love of God? N.

You know what stings the most, though? That "S-" in "works and plays well with others." Ouch. It's like it's code for, "Well, technically she can get along with people, but she's kinda whiny."

I remember very little about kindergarten, but what I do remember was unimpressive. I got into trouble for blowing bubbles in my milk carton during snack time. Also for eating some paste. (Minty!) I can't even remember my teacher's name. N to you, Teacher Lady! N TO YOU.

S+ to all the teachers on the DonorsChoose website, on the other hand, for their passion and enthusiasm. Please pitch in!

Tomorrow: first grade. In which I am toothless.

Love is coming to us all

Seasons in the Sun

I am seven. In our finished basement, I have fashioned a complicated hanging platform meant for my brother's unfortunate GI Joe. As I lead him up the steps to his noose, I sing "Seasons in the Sun," quietly, and cry.

And my parents wondered why I didn't have more friends.

Jenny From the Block

I don't know how it got into my head, but Henry was a newborn, I was out of my mind from sleep deprivation, and I sang it to him for months. I rewrote the lyrics:
Don't be fooled by the poop that he's got
He's still Henry from the block
used to poop a little now he poops a lot
no matter where he poops he knows where he poops from
(from the butt!)

Listen, I was really tired.

No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn

So what if I didn't get a role in the school musical? Who cares if it's my senior year and I always got a lead part and this time they stuck me in the chorus? And all my friends have big parts and now they're all acting all special and also not really talking to me? I'm going to play Beastie Boys in my car so loud that that old lady pulling up in the other lane gets all frowny! Whatever, GRANDMA!

Moonshadow

The grape drink they give us at day camp tastes like the paper spout you drink from and leaves your mouth all puckery. I always try to get a second one.

You Are Too Beautiful

Scott and I shuffle around on the dance floor while everyone watches us. They probably think we've taken dance lessons because it's our wedding, after all, but within seconds it's apparent that we've never seen the inside of a dance studio. Our guest turn back to their conversations and leave us alone. Which is fine by us.

Carry On

I discover Crosby Stills & Nash (and sometimes Young!) my sophomore year of college. Somehow I missed them growing up, and now I can't get enough. I'm undoubtedly driving my hallmates crazy, but whatever, at least I'm not the girl who opens her door and blasts Erasure until we threaten to call campus police.

Steady As She Goes

Dance party in the kitchen. Henry, it turns out, does an excellent Robot. Scott comes home from work while we're jumping up and down, and without taking his coat off, he joins us.

Here Comes the Sun

I'm sitting in my crib, which my sister has covered with a large cotton blanket. I hear voices on the other side, calling to me. Soon a smiling head will peek in, then disappear. Until then I cram my fist in my mouth and bounce up and down, ready for whatever happens next.