I wrote this before I had any readers, and I thought it might deserve a re-post. It’s as close to an honest biography as I am willing to write.
That I was a discipline problem in school shouldn’t have surprised my parents. Mama had to give up her baby sitting jobs when I was two after I hit a kid on the head with my plastic hoe and bit the others. When I was four, I got kicked out of swimming lessons on the first day.
Mrs. Terry wrote my name on the board the first day of kindergarten. When I told my parents, they were proud. Proud until I told them that it wasn’t a reward; that it meant that I couldn’t stop talking. That was 1980, the first year I knew that years were marked by numbers, and that it wasn’t appropriate to talk non-stop.
In those days, our teachers didn’t need permission to paddle. They only needed a witness. I learned this in first grade when I pulled the chair out from under Angela Wolf. Ms. Anderson…
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