A blast from the past

Today at J-O-B, I encountered my first grade and fourth grade teachers. They pretended to remember me, but how the heck could they? They are both about 100 years old and I was not a very remarkable child.

I have discussed this with others and I know that I’m kind of a freak, but I don’t remember anything before about the age of 10, or fourth grade. The things I think I do remember, I’m convinced it is only because of the pictures I’ve seen. I know that I wasn’t abused or otherwise traumatized, I just don’t remember being a small child. It’s like I don’t remember anything before I had a sense of self. SB claims to remember being an infant even, as do several of my friends. My only comfort is that my mom says she doesn’t remember anything from before that age either, so atleast I can blame genetics.

Seeing Ms. M. from fourth grade, though, brought back a few gems:

The Clean Desk Witch
While we were out to recess, Ms. M. would open everyone’s desk and inspect for cleanliness. If your desk was clean, you got a little orange note form the Clean Desk Witch congratulating you on your tidyness, and I think a coupon for popcorn on porcorn day. If your desk was messy, however, you would return from recess to find your desk dumped out all over the floor. My loud mouthiness and confidence did not take root until much later, so I remember being SO EMBARRASSED the one time this happened to me, trying to hold back tears while a retreived my pencils and erasers from where they had rolled across the floor. Come to think of it, perhaps I have Ms. M to thank for traumatizing me into an organized person. To this day, my desk at home is neat and tidy and safe from the Clean Desk Witch.

Tom Seleck
Ms. M. had pictures of Tom Seleck, mustachioed back in those days, taped inside her teacher closet. This was of course pre-Monica older man hottness, and even then I thought Tom was a strange object of her affections.

The Contacts
After Lunch Recess every day, Ms. M. would read to us for about a half an hour. This is actually a good memory, as it was always nice to come inside after running around and and sit quietly. Except for the contact lenses. While she was reading, she would take out her contacts one at a time and PUT THEM IN HER MOUTH, suck on them for a bit, then stick them back into her eyes. This was nearly as frightening as the Clean Desk Witch.

The Sentence
I loved school , so when Ms. M. would pass out a worksheet, I would instantly attack it with much vim and vigor and race to be one of the first to turn it it. Often, I neglected a very important step. Putting my name on my paper. In retalliation, Ms. M. would assign the following sentence to be written in perfect penmanship 100 times:

I realize that when I do not put my name on my paper, Ms. Mreallylongname has no way of knowing whose paper it is.

Isn’t that fucking brutal?

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Dental update: My tooth is fixed. It’s like it never happened, though it is shaped slightly differently. My lip chewing and cutical biting capabilities are greatly diminished.
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Just because.