As a very shy little girl, I no longer cried everyday to go home, like I did in first grade. I was a little more confident socially, although I was the youngest in the class, and most kids treated me as if I were a younger sibling. Our teacher was an older lady (or at least, she seemed that way at the time, because I think she's still teaching almost thirtCOUGH*COUGH years later), and she either overlooked a lot of things that went on in the class, or had a high tolerance level.
Many of us would draw or color pictures in our spare time, and then sell them to each other for pennies, nickels, or, if you were a really good artist, quarters. We would advertise our art sales during work time, with handwritten signs, written on notebook paper, scrap paper, or manila drawing paper. We'd hold the signs high up in the air, and wait for our classmates to come to our sales. Looking back, I can't believe our teacher let us do this, although I do remember the day when an aid stepped in to watch our class, and put a stop to our booming art careers.
My friend Chip would write me love notes, usually asking me to meet him at the Ramada Inn (for dinner, people!), with the ubiquitous check yes or no boxes. Nearly every day, he or Steven, his 8 year old nemesis, would write me a love note of some sort, which I would take home and put in a pink and white gingham, heart shaped valentine candy box that my Grandma had given me. I wish I had kept those notes, but they are long gone.
Chip, Steven and I would spend our recesses playing Dallas. The television show. I'm really not sure why any of us, especially me, were allowed to watch Dallas, but we did-things were different back then. This one particular jungle gym, which I can still picture, was our Southfork Ranch. I was Sue Ellen Ewing, and Chip and Steven fought constantly over who would be JR and Bobby. Naturally, the "who shot JR" theme was played out many times over. Occasionally, other kids would join in to play the parts of Miss Ellie, Jaques, and whatever Bobby's wife's name was.
Another boy, Shannon, slipped me a ring during reading group one day. I believe the ring came with a marriage proposal. You know, because everyone gets engaged in second grade, right? Looking back, Shannon probably swiped the ring from a sister or his mother. But I never gave it back. It was a real silver spoon ring. (As in, made out of an actual silver spoon-if you aren't old enough to remember these, then you are probably really confused right now.) I wonder whatever happened to that ring? It might be worth something!
I apparently really had it going on back then, because there were two other fellows who sought out my attention that year. There was Frank, who used to try to convince me to kiss him. He told me that he'd hold up his red Reading folder so no one would see us. Sorry Frank. However, I did kiss another boy, behind the shed in my backyard. Obviously, it was just an innocent quick peck, but word got around school that I kissed this boy, and well....let's just say that was a bad social decision for me to make at that time. Or any time. That bad decision followed me to fifth grade, where the whole story got brought up again, causing me, and perhaps him, great humiliation and stress. Fifth graders can be such cruel little snots. I'm
Where are all these fine Casanovas now? Well, one of them is serving life in prison, one of them lives in another city with his boyfriend (I tend to have that effect on the fellas), and the others? Who knows. One is probably either a lawyer, or sitting on his butt playing video games in his Mom's basement (it's a toss-up, really), and the other two, I don't recall seeing since elementary school.
I didn't have any boyfriends in junior high, I never attended a Homecoming dance, and I only went to one of my Proms. I was pretty much off the radar of the boys in my class at that time. Most Friday and Saturday nights were spent at home, or with my boyfriend-less friends. Too bad they didn't have a Homecoming dance in second grade, because I would have owned it!