Second grade memories: my second grade teacher was Mrs. Gebhart. She was the “mean teacher,” and I remember being a little apprehensive about her. Each day she would write something on the board which we were to copy. One day she had us copy “My teacher is Mrs. Gebhart. I (do, do not) like her.” We had to choose whether to write “do” or “do not” and I remember wondering whether anyone would write “do not!”
Brian was the naughty boy in class that year. One day, he was being ornery during reading group and Mrs. Gebhart made him sit on her lap. I still remember his red face as he sat there!
There’s Brian, front row center. I’m on the back row, next to Mrs. Gebhart. I loved that zebra jumper! I remember Keith, my first grade wanna-be boyfriend (front row, right); Karen, the would-be singer (2nd row, left); Missy, the girl who loved horses so much she would even eat grass at recess (2nd row, navy shirt); Trina, my friend and co-founder of our Spooky Spy club (2nd row center); Betty, who hosted the first slumber party I attended (2nd row, 2nd from right); Richard, the class clown (3rd row, 2nd from right – I love how the boy next to him is checking him out). And more, but that’s enough for now.
Second grade saw my handwriting ravaged by teachers – a theme that continued into third and fourth grades, where I actually received a C on my report card (!) for handwriting!
Second grade also marked the introduction of one of school’s most challenging topics for me: telling time. As you can see, I was definitely challenged. I remember we had a book at home about telling time, complete with a clock face with moving hands, and I remember my dad getting so frustrated trying to teach me. I also remember just not “getting it” – the hour hand basically made sense, but then changing units with the minute hand was really baffling. How could the minute hand be on “1” but it was 5 minutes after the hour??
See that bottom question? I can see what I was thinking; there are 25 cents in a quarter, so why not 25 minutes in a quarter hour? Awww, the struggle to learn something new. You’ll be happy to know that I finally figured it out.
Related to that sad paper, I remember a classmate, Christina, who used to cut the “U” grade off of papers she did poorly on (back then “U” was the worst grade; we didn’t have “F”) so that her mom wouldn’t see the bad grade. I always wondered if her mom wouldn’t be able to figure out the Christina didn’t do so well, even without the grade – and besides, wouldn’t the hole in the paper look a little suspicious?
Life is a rough biography. Memories smooth out the edges. ~Dante Roque
How about you? Any second grade memories?