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Saturday, September 22, 2007


I was going to write about how I hate the month of September. But decided I would write about only one year in particular, the year I started junior high school. A new school, more homework to do, and a bigger school. There were 17 or 18 classes of each grade. 7th, 8th, and 9th grades. I really did not want to be there. I wanted to do something else, anything else, rather than be in school. I wished I was already a grownup so I would be past all the schooling rigamoroll. Then I could watch cartoons all day. Hmmm, sounds like working at Cartoon Network. But junior high school was not fun in September. I remeber the science teacher, Mr Tracton, had a daily assignment of work for us to do, and I did not want to do it. What threw me for a loop was the fact that he wanted to see that daily work a week before report cards came out, to see if we did it or not. And I didn't do it, so I had to scramble to find out what daily work entailed, and try to do eight weeks worth in 2 days. I gave up, turned in what I had, and basically failed the class. My first time failing a class. I remember that he kept telling us that our daily work began on 9-9, and went to mid-October. I asked the girl next to me, Nanette Perotto, what all this work was, and she told me to look back in my notes and see what we wrote done the first few days of school. I saw some chicken scratches I made back in September, and had no memory of what it meant. I asked the teacher, and he explained it to me, but I think I fell asleep whaile he was talking to me. It was just, "blah blah blah blah, your final grade." Then came report card day, and I was a little nervous. Our advisory teacher handed out the report cards. I did not look at mine, I just put it into my briefcase. My family went to my grandparents' house for dinner that night. I still did not look at my report card. When we got home that night, I went to my room, opened my briefcase, and pulled out the envelope. I pulled the card out, saw my name at the top, so I knew it was mine, and opened it up. There in front of my face was a row of bad grades I had never seen before. E was a failing grade. And I had 3 of them. D was the next worst grade, two of those. A couple of C's maybe one B. I had never had a report card like that in my short school life. I almost cried, I thought I was going to get punished by my parents that night and everyday of my life thereafter. My mother called to me to show her my report card. I took the long walk down to the kitchen. I handed the card to my mother, waiting for her to yell at me and tell me what kind of punishment she had in mind for me. Maybe I would have to shovel snow for the entire neighborhood for the rest of my life for free. Or mow lawns for the entire town. Or just have everybody in school line up and laugh at me for all eternity. But none of that happened. She just told I would do better next time. Wait, no yelling? No punishments? Was it because she didn't love me anymore? And my brother and sister would do better than me anyway? Nope, just that she thought I would do better next time. I felt a sigh of relief running around inside my head. I was going to be alright after all. Till next report card. Hoo boy.


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