Growing up in a small town in Southern New Jersey

Friday, March 22, 2013

Principal's office

In first/second grade, Mrs. Marantonio, mentioned in previous BLOG, was the only teacher to ever send me to the Principal's office.

Here's what happened. 

We had to color a picture in our reading workbook.  I was never a good colorer, but I complied with the request.  When I turned in my paper, I had colored the house and picket fence white.  Well, my white crayon didn't show up very well, and Mrs. M said I didn't color those parts of the picture. 

I told her I did, and I used a white crayon, I even used my fingernail to pick our some of the white crayon.  It didn't matter.  She didn't want that house and picket fence white.

Well, she and I had a discussion wherein I explained in my best first grade debating terms that the clapboard and picket fence should be white and I had colored them white.  She told me to color them.  I said they should be white.  She told me again to color them  and again I said the house and picket fence should be white.  I even took her hand and pulled her to the window and told her to look outside.  What did she see?  White houses and a white picket fence. 

Well, my "one-upsmanship" was met with, "I think you should go see Mrs. French."  Mrs. French was the principal.  So she took me to the principal and the principal called my father.  Daddy didn't see the problem.  He sort of agreed with me, but told me if the teacher wanted black siding on a house and a black picket fence, then I should comply and color them that horrid color.

The next "coloring" day, I did just that.  And, yes, I got into trouble again for coloring them black!


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