At the beginning of first grade, I only wanted one thing: I wanted my best friend, Grace, to be in my class. She wasn't, of course, because the place I had gone to before was in a different county. My teacher was called Ms. Brown, and I can't remember her face, except I have a sneaky suspicion that she looked like the teacher in the series that's called Bailey Street something. I read that whole series in second grade, everything that was out, atleast. But I stopped over the summer, and then I remembered them when I was in third grade and I got to get picked up from school on Wednesdays because I had gymnastics. I borrowed an erasable pen from Becky, one of the girls in my class, and one of the girls that would be in my class for about five years up until now, and I think several years after today. At the time, I thought it was really cool because normal pens don't erase. It was blue. I was in third grade. Then, a girl who I think was one of a twin came into the room. She would be one of my predecessors in the AI (which I haven't mentioned yet). She was reading what appeared to be the latest installment in the series, and it struck me that it had really gone downhill over the year. You see, the series was about these kids whose names I forget who come across all of these paranormal things on their street. I think the first books were about Dracula and Frankenstein and stuff. But after you've done the regular ones, it's sorta hard to continue with the series. But the author did. And I was looking at something like Turkeys Don't Run Through Swamps or something like that. It's all really hazy anyway.
But, anyway, back to first grade. Pretty mediocre. We had weenie homework: all I remember is that one day we had to make a square out of straws and twist ties. But I owe a lot to first grade. It was where I first got recognized as the genius that I am (sorta). I think the teacher realized that I was very bright because of my reading skills. I wanted to know why everyone else couldn't read picture books, much less chapter books. I was put in this advanced reading group, with other people around the school who were good with reading. During the time when regular first graders were struggling with their b's and d's, we were walking around outside a lot, not doing a lot of things related to reading, I recall. I think that was because our teacher was pregnant. She was kinda crazy. Towards the end of the year, she had to quit and we got a new teacher who I remember nothing about. Anyway: Oh, sure, we did some things. One time, we researched the topics of our choice. I chose castles because I was into a whole scary-medival reading stage. My main author was R.L. Stine. Another time, we had to do a big project (Big project=5 minute's work), which I totally forgot about. There's one thing you have to understand about me: I am very smart, but I do not have a very good work ethic. It just so happened that the two other girls who lived up my street were in my reading group. They reminded me of the project, just as the bus was almost at our stop. Megan, one of the girls (the other was called Alana) was carrying a big poster that was very well done. I think it had characters from one of those stupid Highlights magazine comic strips that were for early readers. But, I didn't care that she had a big poster and I had nothing. I knew I had to get some sort of project, so I did the only thing I could think of: I sent my mom, with her big tan coat, racing towards our house (we live on the corner of our street, which was lucky). I don't think she knew what was going on. I told her to grab any of my books that I had gotten out from the library,
I am not done here! I am just to bored to continue!
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