Best & Worst Grade School Memories

I had a teacher who I HATED and boy, it was a two-way street. We were not a shidduch. One day she took me into a walk-in closet where books were kept-it must’ve been 2×2-to give me a mussar shmooze. She actually locked the door and I remember feeling soooooo claustrophobic. I mean, there I was with my nose a few centimeters away from my least favorite person’s nose and she was lecturing to me about attitude… Help!

Oh, those charming little tales of sordid juvenile violence… 🙂 I once got into a fight with a classmate and in typical girl-war style, she made this really sly and spiteful remark to someone else about me within my earshot – but instead of using the same tactic against her (which would have been the protocol), I walked right up to her and SLAPPED her so hard…the whole room was SHOCKED. (This wouldn’t really be as shocking but I think we were like twelve at the time…) Later, the kid comes up to me like nothing happened, all chummy again… Mind you, I think this was the only time I ever hit someone in anger (except my siblings, of course), but boy did it work…

Another funny story – I had a friend who was a little goody-goody overachiever just as I was (don’t worry, I outgrew it), and we always used to sit in those two seats right in front of the teachers desk. We always used to play tic-tac-toe with a piece of chalk on the teacher’s desk during certain classes – and the teacher always allowed this because it prevented us front raising our hands and shouting out answers (very mature, I know). And that was eleventh grade. :S

So many… My both worst AND best memory was having my tonsils out when I was 6. I am sure to this day that I was not fully asleep during the surgery, as I vividly recall feeling sharp pain BEFORE I was back in my room. I also woke up from the surgery a full hour before they expected me to. My parents were not even there, because they had been told to go get something to eat, once they knew I was out of surgery, that it would be an hour or two before I was conscious. They were mistaken. But on the plus side, My uncle came by with a “little dixie cup” for me (read: half a gallon of ice cream). 🙂

My first “best memory” was being a 2nd grader at Crown heights Yeshivah, and saying the Mah Nishtana in Yiddish for my teacher and having him smile broadly and give me a box of dominoes for a prize. He was a tough cookie most of the time, but he always liked me. My second “best memory” was being chosen to represent the school in the Chidon Tanach in Manhattan, when I was much older. I didn’t win, but I had a wonderful time.

My worst school memory was when graduating from junior high (not Crown Heights, as we had moved to another neighborhood)and I was told by my teacher that I was selected by the faculty to be the Class Valedictorian. Then, all of a sudden, the daughter of a choshuveh rabbi affiliated with the yeshivah was announced as having been “picked out of a hat” (supposedly my name, hers, and one other student’s were put in the hat) and she won the Valedictory award. My teacher took me aside and felt compelled to apologize to me, because he was shocked that it ended happening this way, as the teachers had already made their decision and notified my parents. In retrospect, though I felt bad and was not even made Salutatorian, I guess I am pretty lucky if that is my worst memory. Other kids lost a parent or became ill, lo aleinu. On balance, life is pretty good to me.

when we were 3 some of the boys chased us around purim time with those little orange gym cones saying “were gonna hang u like haman” lol we were so scared! or the time they all gathered mulch/dirt into a HUIGE pile and sed were gonna make a bonfire and throw all the girls in! (around lag baomer)

It turned out that after class the day I was thrown out, the boy sitting next to me went to the “Rebbe” and admitted that he had been talking, not me. So why was I outside? Because I told the Rebbe I hadn’t been talking, and he felt that was chutzpa, to contradict him in front of the class.”

Feif Un, that similar scenarioo happened to my son in 5th grade (almost put him off love of learning, btw). He was thrown out of class for talking during davening. Anyone who knows my son at all, knows that davening is of extreme chashivus to him, so much so, that he NEVER talked during tefila. The boy in back of him was nudging him, and he turned back to motion (not even say) “SHAH!” That’s what the rebbie saw. He would not even allow my son to explain that he was not doing anything wrong. L’hefech!

Even when the boy who WAS talking and bothering him IMMEDIATELY stepped up and admitted my son had done no wrong and it was entirely his fault, the rebbie still threw my son out (not the other boy, who btw is a wonderful young man), and called my husband and me in to see him the next day.

We are not the type of parents who always think their precious yingeleh is perfect, so we asked our son what happened, and got his side of the story. When we saw the rebbie the next day, we reserved judgment until after he told us his version of the events. We were non-confrontational, but asked him if it was true that the other boy confessed. he looked confused for a moment then mumbled something or other. I asked him if he had ever noted my son doing anything other than davening while davening (the school year was almost over, btw). He admitted he had not. I asked him if my son had ever given him any reason that entire year, to think he was not machshiv his davening. He said he had not. I asked him if he was aware of how important davening is to our son? I further asked him if he believed that throwing my son out of class for almost two days without benefit of hearing his side, or seriously listening to exculpatory evidence, in any way made him a better Yeshivah bochur. He had the grace to admit he had been wrong. I told him that he needs to believe us when we tell him that we would not countenance any misbehavior, especially during davening, but that he also needs to believe my son when he says that he does not talk during davening. Especially when the guilty party comes forward.

My son never enjoyed fifth grade Limudei Kodesh much. If he were a different type of boy, this could have chalilah given him a really sour taste at a most crucial stage in his development. B”H he knew we supported him fully, but he also knew that if and when he ever DID do something he shouldn’t, we would have a very different approach. Thankfully, that has not happened too often.

This memory definitely makes it to one of the best-

In second grade, my morah decorated four or five siddurim into breathtaking masterpieces(at least they were to a 7 yr old girl). Every Friday afternoon, she would let each of the few “best daveners” take one home, but you could only get a siddur once. Being called was a serious status symbol. One week, my teacher called the names of four kids- mine was one of them, “talia” was another. When she realized that Talia already got the siddur once before she said “I’m sorry, but you already had it one week, Im going to give it to someone else.” In her frustration, Talia said “But Morah! Bortezomib also got it already!” To which my teacher said “Yeah, but she really deserves it, she REALLY davened beautifully”.

I love that woman until this day. Always felt bad for Talia though.

Thanks for the Mussar, oomis! “

You are certainly welcome, though it was not my intention to give anyone mussar.

Grade school? I skipped directly from kindergarten to the top Beis Medrash shiur.

syag

mine too these were from the ones i remember

I have three worst. The first was in kindergarten. Someone said to me, “Heidi is wearing funny shoes,” and I said, “Yes, she is.” I didn’t really think the shoes were that funny, I was just being agreeable. However, I was the one who was made to stand in the corner for saying Heidi was wearing funny shoes.

The second happened in sixth grade. One of the boys in the class had a birthday and brought gum for everyone. The teacher wasn’t that happy, as she would have preferred that he brought cupcakes, or something similar. However, she agreed to let us chew the gum. At the end of the day, I was going to my locker to get my coat, and another teacher saw me chewing gum and told me to spit it out. I told her Mrs. L. was letting us chew gum that day, but she said, “Mrs. L. never lets people chew gum,” and she made me spit it out.

The third was from eighth grade. I had a rotten teacher that year who was quite incapable of teaching. For math, we had a program that consisted of a series of booklets we were able to work on at our own pace. I finished all the required booklets and three of the four optional booklets. I was nearly finished with the fourth, but during math period he always found something else for me to do and wouldn’t let me finish that fourth booklet.

I have three best memories. The first was in first grade when my teacher discovered I could already read our reader. She realized it was pointless for to keep me in a group that was reading a book I could already read, so instead she let me advance quicker.

The second was in sixth grade when I received the “sixth grade math award.” That was the only grade that had a math award.

The third was in eighth grade. That year they instituted two “eighth grade math awards,” one for a boy and one for a girl. I got one of them. I really think the reason they made two awards is because we had a male teacher and he didn’t want it to look as if a girl was smarter than all the boys.

42, now we know your age.

My sister (a’h) had a teacher who broke pencils every time the girls erased (early elementary). My mother still talks about this horrible tactic.

Trip to the zoo in kindergarten. They forgot to tell us the animals were in cages, and I freaked out. I was terrified to go, imagining all these wild animals walking around. My mother had to pick me up. I guess I didn’t know how to articulate what my fears were.

7th grade flight to Washington, d.c. It was so exciting flying for a school trip.

Not so good was having to wait for 4 hours in the hangar for our return flight.

To “want moshiach”

Yrs ago I spoke to a student about her attitude in a similar venue and felt terribly guilty about it. I have often thought of contacting the student to ask her for mechilla. This was in a very MO school. If this was you, please accept my apologies. I am sorry if I contributed to your feeling so uncomfortable. And for the record, I didn’t hate you.

If the teacher was not me, I am sorry you went thru that. You should know though, that if the teacher is a Baal Aliya she too probably realized afterwords that she shouldn’t have made you feel so awkward and felt badly.

during recess I went to ask the teacher who had recess duty if I could use the bathroom. I didn’t know the teacher and was rlly shy so I spoke very quietly. the teacher said “pardon?” and I hadn’t the haziest notion what that meant. so I just stood there and stood there dumbfounded and on the verge of tears. to this day I flinch when someone uses “pardon”.

I also remember telling the teacher every day that I felt like I needed to throw up so that she would let me go to the bathroom. maybe after my “pardon” encounter, I didn’t think just asking to go to the plain old bathroom was urgent enough. so I came up with what I thought was a definite emergency.

thinking back, the teacher probably thought I was a nut job at best, or a 6 year old bulimic at worse.

Ironically, after attending public schools my entire life and a private university, the worst experience I ever had was in teaching in a grade school yeshiva; the boys were the worst behaved I ever dealt with or seen in my entire life. I never witnessed anything in public school as bad as what I observed in that yeshiva. And, despite what many frum people think, not all public schools have metal detectors, or drugs, or violence, or worse. I never had encountered any violence in all my years of public school.

My two worst memories: When I was in Second grade in a bais yaakov I told my teacher how we did hakafos in my shul, well she thought i was a liar, but how was I supposed to know I was describing a Syrian minhag since that’s where my father davened. It was not for another few year I started going to Ashkenazic minyanim.

second: I was dumped in the back corner for fifth grade english. I did not learn anything a whole year no thanks to my teacher hating me. ps she doesn’t remember it that way.