Sunday, March 4, 2012

Before There Were Trophys

This was my 1st grade report card that I found last week.  The one where I was below average in every single subject the entire year.  They sure didn't sugarcoat anything back in the day if they thought you were dumb.

Sheesh.  I was six years old.  According to them, I even sucked at praying.  Who grades a little kid on how she prays?  The Archdiocese of Chicago in 1963, that's who.

One day when my older brother was on locker duty, he walked out the door and headed home because my grandparents and Aunt Belle were coming to town.  At 8:00 in the morning.  No cops were called, no code red, no worries.  Just a call from the principal telling my mom he was missing.  I'd give them an UNSATISFACTORY in Christian Doctrine for not getting on their knees and begging God to find that missing boy who disappeared on their watch.

He showed up at home awhile later and Mom told him he had to go back.  "You can't walk out of school every time we have company come to town."

He was pissed.  I don't blame him.  By the looks of my year I wasn't having much fun there either, and if I knew what he was up to I'd have taken my thumb-sucking, scared self right out the door with him.

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