Bite Sized Memoir 4- Sports Day

Kid.

It didn't matter what sport it was, there was always that one kid. Sure, there were lots of the other kids too, the ones who trained and had dads that yelled from the sidelines and moms that brought cupcakes to every game, but it really didn't matter who else showed up as long as there was still that kid. That kid. The one that got to play the whole time, usually as something that ultimately turned out the be important like goalie or pitcher. The kid that no one like not because they were unlikable, but because they had neither aptitude nor interest. They were the coaches kid, or that guy that went to state when he was a kid's kid. They made daisy chains during the game, ate too much of the pizza afterwards, and generally didn't mind losing.

I wonder where those kids are now. Are they all in middle management? Car sales? Have they remained disaffected and bored? Did they ever find anything they cared about?

Bite Size Memoir 2- Jinks and Japes

McParty.

This post is part of an ongoing small-memoir project by Lisa Reiter. To read other bite-sized memoirs from the project or contribute one of your own go to: http://sharingthestoryblog.wordpress.com/

Mr. McPartland was the kind of high school teacher that nobody knew what he was doing there, not eve himself. He was prone to long ramblings, "music days" and oral exams, all of which were awkward, to say the least, in a trigonometry class. Most days, he would chuck his keys at whichever of us he encountered in the hallway so he could arrive fifteen minutes late and then ignore us for the rest of the period. It got to be pretty boring.

So one day Josh gets this idea about climbing into the ceiling like that scene from The Breakfast Club, which worked, except he didn't really have anyplace to go. While he was perched up there checking it out Mr. McPartland finally came to class. I figured he would notice the open hole in the ceiling right away and so did everyone else, but he just came in, put the next weeks problems on the board, and started deriving some identity. Josh, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out what to do, not wanting to actually get in trouble for climbing into the ceiling. From my desk I could look up and see his arms and legs starting to shake with the effort of holding himself in position. And then, about forty minutes into class, he just gave way and came crashing back down onto his desk. Mr. McPartland almost had a heart attack, we all got in trouble, and he started coming to class on time. 

Bite Sized Memoir I -School At Seven

Remember.

This post is part of an ongoing small-memoir project by Lisa Reiter. To read other bite-sized memoirs from the project or contribute one of your own go to http://sharingthestoryblog.wordpress.com/2014/05/02/bite-size-memoir-no-1-school-at-seven/

I remember learning words in phonetic groups; cat, sat, hat, mat and numbers by ones, twos and fours.

I remember standing at Miss Nancy's desk proving I could count and add together the shiny, polished stones she held in her palm correctly.

I remember too, the slow sounding out of words by her side; painfully slow, too slowly for my age.

I remember being able to form the letters with an always stubby pencil but not string them together into anything useful.

I remember watching my friends move forward through the books on the reading shelf.

I remember trying to guess the story from the pictures, desperate to connect them to the words.

I remember waiting in the hall with my parents for the teacher conference.

I remember hearing Miss Nancy explain how far behind I was, how other kids like me had learning disabilities, that they went to special ed classes.

I remember her pausing, looking at me, deciding my fate, and finally saying, "She's smart. She can do math. I think she's just waiting for something. Let's give her another year."

I remember, one year later, walking down the hall each day for reading class in the room three grades above mine, no longer waiting.