GRADE SCHOOL

My Father was nineteen and my Mother was seventeen when they got married. I was their second child. We called them by their first names. I don't know if that was a testament to their unreadiness to be parents or if it was because my Mother was the oldest of nine children and the young aunts and uncles were always around using their first names. Their home was only two blocks from ours. We called our Mother, Mom or Mama at times, but other times, Rosie and my Father was always Doc.

Nothing glares out at me about my pre-school childhood. Our Mother loved us and we spent a lot of time together. I was a much loved child in the extended family. There was always some kind of get together at my Grandparents, holidays and birthday parties for the eight surviving siblings. These get togethers were attended by other relatives, especially two Great Aunts. I was often the child that went from lap to lap. I remember my Great Aunts exotic perfume and their great cleavages in which they could pull out hankies or even coin purses. I remember feeling the shaven whiskers of the men. There was no doubt that I was loved and valued.

The trouble started with school. Apparently I could read before I attended school. At least, I was teaching myself. I remember being quite a pest as I was trying to decipher the funnies, when I came across a word I didn't know I would get the nearest adult to tell me what it was. Because I was thought to be precocious and I was large for my age they decided to place me in first grade and skip kindergarten.

Well I say they, but I am sure my Father didn't fully support it. My Mother's family were Catholic and my Father was perhaps agnostic [I never knew]. My Father's beliefs were impenetrable. A new Catholic school had opened up and they didn't have a kindergarten. My older brother and my Aunts and Uncles [my Mother's siblings- they were more like our siblings] went to public school for kindergarten.

So they sent me eight blocks to Catholic school when I could have gone a block and a half to the public school. There an ordeal began that took my about twenty years to overcome. Or maybe I haven't. If I really overcame it, would I be writing this?

I didn't have the foggiest notion what was going on. I don't remember being rebellious or resistant. I didn't know why I was there. I don't remember much about the first couple years. I remember wetting my pants because every time I raised my hand to go to the bathroom the teacher shook her head. I remember once it was worse than wetting and my brother was sent for to help clean me up. He must have loved that.

Eventually I just felt bad. I couldn't do anything right. The times I thought I would be successful, I failed. I got mostly Fs.

The fact that I would read the text books cover to cover as soon as they were assigned must have escaped everyones notice. When a test came I couldn't remember all those dates and stuff, I had read that history book a month ago, I was on to something else. Mostly, I think I just dreamed and drew pictures. I loved to draw pictures of sailboats.

Every time I thought there might be a little success, the world would crash down on me. I remember one time, the teacher had us all read a passage out loud to determine what reading group we were to be assigned to, I believe there were three; the robins, the blue birds, and the cardinals. I was assigned the robins, the highest group. After the reading the teacher went around asking each student what group they were assigned to, as usual I wasn't paying attention when my name was called; I hesitated and a girl piped up, “He is a cardinal of course”. I was struck dumb – that was the lowest group. So I spent the rest of the school year with kids that were struggling to read.

Many times I got straight Fs. The priest would come in the classroom and we would go up to the front of the classroom to get our report cards from him; he would read my grade and pinch my cheek, when it came to my grade in religion, he pinched my cheek really hard.

Yet, they promoted me, why? They would pass me on condition. On what condition? Nothing ever changed. How could they pass a student who got straight Fs on his report card?

Well parochial schools had to use state board exams at the end of every year. I remember them, a sheet was returned to us giving us our scores. The sheet would have our actual grade placement and our grade placement on the test. I consistently scored way above my grade placement. I would be in grade four or five and score as a tenth grader. Did this tell me I was really not dumb? No it didn't I am not sure how I rationalized it. I think I thought that catholic school was way ahead of public school. That may have fit with the propaganda.

What did the school officials think? Didn't anyone see my anguish? As a good Catholic boy, I prayed to God that I was really dumb because I couldn't stand the pain of being bad.

To this day, I don't know how I appeared to the teachers. I know I must have really irritated them. Most of the time I just was not there. Paying attention was not my long suit [to put it moderately].

I did make progress through grade school and I think I even got a C once or twice. A 'C' to me would be like getting an A+. I certainly made social progress. The other students liked me and I developed many lasting friendships. One time one of the other students said, “ You know your the smartest of all the dumb kids”. It was his clumsy way of complimenting me and I appreciated it.

By eighth grade I was actually passing, not doing well, but indistinguishable from a student with moderate learning problems. I am just guessing. I don't know. I obviously did not have a learning problem. One of those Great Aunts, I mentioned, was the city librarian. I took out a raft of books every week and read them. She would mention to people that she tried to steer me to kid's books but I wouldn't read anything but thick books.

Why didn't anybody in school take me aside and ask me what the problem was? I don't know. What did my family think. My Mother's family were all straight A students. My Mother graduated at fifteen as the Salutatorian and her sister graduated at fourteen as the Valedictorian. My Grandfather was on the school board and the High School principal told him my Mother had the highest IQ in the history of the school. Another Aunt wrote the school anthem that may be still used.

They must have felt that I was quite an oddball. My parents were overwhelmed with life. They got married young during the depression and had five kids. I think my troubles were one too many. Then I didn't advertise them either. By the time I was in high school, I was signing my own report card.

Somewhere along the line I figured out I wasn't dumb, but I still couldn't figure out the secret to academic success. I did make slow progress. I was aware I had developed self-defeating behaviors.

I will address my high school years Friday or next week depending on what else is going on in the world.

Love and Peace, Gregg