Growing up in a small town in Southern New Jersey

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Sixth Grade

This was one of my favorite grades.  My teacher was Mrs. Cunningham.  She was older than most of my teachers. 

Of course with the good there is the bad.  The bad was me.  I didn't particularly like the lunches my mom was packing for me so I didn't each lunch when I was supposed to stay at school during lunch-time.  Well, after three days of bringing my lunch home, my dad wanted to know why I didn't finish what was in my lunch bag.  I told him I didn't have enough time.  WRONG THINGO DO.  

My father called the school the next day and asked to speak with Mrs. Cunnigham.  Well, at lunchtime I knew I was in trouble.  Mrs. C asked me to stay after the rest of the lunch children  were released.  She asked me why I told my father I didn't have enough time for lunch.  She said she would have given me more time if I needed it.  And since I hadn't eaten my awful lunch again that day she made me stay in until the next session started (I still hadn't finished my lunch). 

I didn't take any remnants of my lunch home with me. I dropped them in a trash basket on the way home. 

For my sister:  You see, Deb, I wasn't all that good in school either.


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