I don’t know that I was really a brat when I was a kid (oh, I’m definitely a brat now), but I was easily bored. So when things weren’t moving fast enough, my brain would come up with something to make things interesting.
One time in third grade, the whole school was outside on the playing field. It was probably some sort of fire drill. My teacher, whose name I no longer recall, was a bit of a ditz. …
In fourth grade I had a buddy who really liked doing pull-ups and other moves on the chin-up bar. I was never great at it, but it was something to do at recess.
Fifth grade found me in a new school. As normal, I didn’t have many friends at first, a couple of weeks into the school year I figured I might as well go back to what I used to do at recess in the fourth grade. …
In sixth grade I had a teacher I loathed: Richard Ryan. I don’t remember why, I’m not even certain now what subject he taught. Spelling?
Ryan didn’t rate his own classroom, so we used a classroom for art, which meant that we sat on stools at big drafting-table-like desks. That was the coolest thing about the class, other than sitting next to Karen, my first crush.
Back to the story, in those days we lived close enough that I walked to school. …
In eighth grade, the two most beautiful girls in class were Lori and Ingrid. Lori was a typical American girl-next door, while Ingrid was exotic in a vaguely foreign way. They never really seemed to be each other’s BFF, but they often hung out together. Each of them seemed out of my league, so I enjoyed them from afar.
Our school used to hold skate nights at the rink in a neighboring town. I never really got the hang of skating, but it was something to do, and it was fun in a terrifying way.
One skate night, I’m minding…
In my sixth grade class were two sisters. I forget the one’s name, but the other’s name was Jodi.
Jodi was suggestible. Very suggestible. After a few months of playing minor-league mind games on her, a group of us decided one morning before school to see how far we could go.
Every time one of us spoke with Jodi that morning, we mentioned casually that she didn’t look well.
Within a couple of hours she had become so sick that she had to go home.
Now that I’m older, I realize this is the same technique used in political campaigns.
Amusing stories from my youth.