I’ll start:
I had a problem with reality enhancement when I was a kid. I had, shall we say, a limited ability to keep my conversation within the confines of fact. I prevaricated. I told fibs. I lied. About anything you want to name. But one of my favorite things evidently was to play hooky by putting on that I was sicker than I really felt.
Well, one day, this tendency delivered me into the nurse’s office with complaints of a sore throat which were, I shouldn’t have to tell you, fiction. I believe there may have been a math test involved. Anyway, my mother came to pick me up (we lived only a couple of blocks from my school, but the rule was sick kids had to be picked up by a parent), which put her out considerably since her office was across town.
I think she must’ve been fed up with my shenanigans, because as I remember it, we went promptly to the doctor’s office where I was diagnosed with (hold on to yourself)
strep throat.
And, yes, I tell you again, the complaint was fiction. But nevertheless, I was diagnosed and treated for strep throat (I remember going with my dad to the pharmacy to pick up the antibiotic).
I don’t think I had ever seen my mother that chagrinned; here, she had planned to catch me in a lie, and here I was, sick.
For the record, I felt like crap too. Anybody remember the version of Pinnochio with the two characters who pretend to be (I think) blind and deaf and before the story is over really are blind and deaf? That’s what I thought had happened to me! My “illnesses” went way down after that!
We moved from Atlanta to Nashville in the summer before third grade.
I have no artistic talent. One assignment was to draw a fish. I drew a nice, even brownish color on the paper, explaining it was a flounder hiding under the mud on the ocean floor.
Got tested for the gifted program, passed, but the funding was cut that year so I couldn’t go.
Thirs grade is a blur. I remember my teacher’s name wsa Ms. Kelly and that she retired after I left her class. I remember sitting in the back of the room. I remember going out with the most popular girl in highschool for a whole day in third grade. I still bring that up now.
I remember my class starting a lanyard keychain/gigunda paper airplane business. I never got past Barrel - but some kids could do Quatruple Corkscrew. That sold for big money.
I also remember one day in the middle of winter when we all come to school and the lights were off. No big deal, we thought & tried to flip the lights on. Only the lights didn’t turn on. And there was no heat. There weren’t a lot of people in the building, it was the middle of winter, and we had no light or heat. I think eventually school was cancelled, but I’ll never forget the look on Sara Kramer’s face when she couldn’t turn on the lights.
My third grade teacher was Mrs. Graves. We were convinced she was an undead zombie. She was evil. I still shudder when I hear her name.
My favorite memory of third grade would have to be the time when I solved a math problem that my teacher couldn’t. (Keep in mind this was third grade, that’s really, really sad).
My third grade teachers was Mrs. K. She wore mini skirts that got all the dads out to meet the teacher night.
That woman had one of the wickedest tempers I’ve ever seen, you had to be on your toes because you never knew when a pen was going to go flying past your head. She screamed like a banshee and then started throwing. I remember the day a parent stormed in because teach had pegged off her kid the day before, in the shoulder with a pen.
Not a pretty sight… the next year she wasnt at the school.
My third grade teacher frequently gave us “free reading time,” which my book-loving self enjoyed immensely. One day, I got myself comfortable in a rocking chair and settled in to read. Just minutes later (as far as I knew) I looked up to see the entire class in their seats, staring at me. Apparently, reading time was over. I hadn’t heard the teacher call us for math, I hadn’t heard the commotion as everyone took their seats, I hadn’t heard her call my name. I think it was the sudden silence that finally broke my concentration. The teacher was very nice about it, though.
My third grade teacher was a very nice lady. She was very young and seemed to be a sensible lady. There was just one problem with her. You see, in 1813 there was an opera-house in my town of Boyertown Pa. One night as some show was going on they had problems with the gas for the projector. The gas was ignited by the lamps and the whole place went up in flames. Anyway, lots of people died.
Now to the problem with her. She had a relative in this fire so it was a big deal to her. So what does she do? She spends a lot of time discussing it. This might not seem so bad except the lessons were accompained by pictures. Lots of horrific pictures. Burnt bodys everywhere. Stories of the bodies being laid out on school desk for identification. This is not the sort of stuff you should be showing a class of third graders. Needless to say we all refused to touch our desks for a while and were pretty upset.