I was in the fourth grade.
When I read over Mama Kat's writing prompts for this week I kept going back to the one asking me to share a story from the fourth grade because Dracen and I have just recently begun reading Judy Blume's 1970s book, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, on the Kindle. I always loved Judy Blume books when I was growing up and they are proving to be just as entertaining today as they were way back then.
But when I try to recall my elementary and middle school years, I often have a hard time remembering details and what happened when. It's mostly just all stuffed in one big file of my memory bank labeled, Childhood, which is pretty much the way I have things "organized" (and I use that term very loosely) around the house.
So I broke out my fourth grade yearbook and remembered that my bff and I took gymnastics that year when I came across this photo...
It seems that may have also been the same year we took baton lessons if my memory serves me correctly. I don't know why I quit because my biggest dream back them, aside from one day becoming a Solid Gold Dancer, was to be a majorette when I got to high school because the high school I would be attending always had a small team of majorettes. I think I really just wanted to wear one of those sequin leotards. I did pick up the lessons again later on, only to get the news my 9th grade year that we were moving to North Carolina that summer where I had to settle for twirling a flag, sans sequin leotard, because they didn't have majorettes. Oh, the disappointment!
But back to my attempts at conjuring up memories of the fourth grade. Fourth grade...fourth grade... What happened in the fourth grade? And then it hit me...Yes, that happened in the fourth grade.
I know I've briefly told this story on this blog before but it's been quite a while back and I doubt most of you have heard it so here goes...
I've always been an introverted person and I went many, many days during my elementary school years without ever saying a word to anyone all day long. Public school was definitely not my favorite place to be but that year I really liked my teacher which did make a difference. But I still didn't speak aloud unless my very life had been threatened or I was asked a direct question from the teacher.
We had those big, gaudy, metal and wood desks that our books went underneath and that the teachers always liked to line up in rows for reasons I never understood because you couldn't see jack she was writing on that blackboard if you were in the back or behind some tall kid, which I often was then since I was in the middle of a three year drought in the growth spurt department.
But did I yell out for help or cry or even attempt to make a white flag out of a sheet of notebook paper and wave it around?
I just stayed there on the floor trapped by my big ol' desk as my face turned fifty shades of red and not making even the tiniest sound until a student near me spoke up and got the teacher's attention.
And what she said when she turned to see me in my unfortunate predicament, I don't think I will ever forget...
She said, "Diane, you are the only student I know who could flip over in her desk without making a sound!"
Yep, that was me...the stealthiest fourth grader to ever grace a row desk.