I'm baaaaaaack.

Hoarding All the Glitter Since 2001.

11 September 2010


On both sides.

  • I am so bad about keeping a neat, organized desk that I don't have a teacher's desk; I either take care of memos, forms and whatnot or I lose them entirely.  (This mostly works.)  This has been a problem my whole life, and in fifth grade I had a teacher who periodically walked down the aisles and tipped over any very messy desks.  The year I was in fifth grade she could manage an impressive double-dump because the kid who sat across from me was another big offender to order.  Needless to say all we learned was to stuff the papers in their tighter, so that nothing came out of those desks, EVER, and they took on the sullen density of black holes.
  • In Kindergarten my picture was taken for a Tana Hoban-style book.  It was a counting book and all the kids had instruments; I had a bell ringing stick with three bells.  I also have the world's most hostile look on my face, because although I am wearing one of my favorite dresses it is not my dress WITH TINY MICE DRIVING TRUCKS, COOKING, FLYING KITES AND OTHER ASSORTED ACTIVITIES on the puffy long sleeves and pussy bow.*  I think they tried again later with all of us in Oshkosh and it went fine except the daily Star Wars game had left us a little muddy.
  • In seventh grade my cousin and I sat next to each other in English and we spent the better part of a week holding up a sign that said "DROP DEAD" before the teacher noticed.  To her eternal credit she was quite amused.
  • In high school I was part of an all-female Wild Dada Ducks-type group that added color, class and post-modern critique through installation pieces.  Some of these were very clever.  All of them were disruptive.
  • Also in high school, I arranged for the Biology classroom to be haunted by the spirit of the pregnant cat specimen some long-gone teacher had ordered that was found lurking in the chemistry cabinet that year.
  • My first grade teacher was awesome but once a month or so we'd go to the other first grade to do a project.  I was scared of that teacher to the extent that one time we went over there and I had a runny nose.  I sat covering my nose for quite a while (it seems like hours now, but was probably two minutes) because I did not know where she kept Kleenex and if she allowed kids to just go get one.  By the time she noticed it was hugely gross and embarrassing and boy was she mad at me.

*If you were not wearing this dress you would be mad, too.  In fact, I am mad I am not wearing this dress right now and that it mysteriously disappeared after it no longer covered tap pants or wrists.

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