School Makes Me Puke!

     Tomorrow is the big day. The first day of first grade for my little guy. He has been as cool as a cucumber, oblivious to the fact that he is about to be regimented into the public school system. However, I am queasy.  Positively nauseous.

     You're probably thinking that this is some weepy, sentimental mommy thing. Nope. Not it. It is my firm belief that school makes me sick.

     It's not that I have anything against education.  I love learning.  I love teachers and think that they are grossly under appreciated and under compensated. It may be that I'm just allergic to organized education.

     I blame it all on my parents. My dad taught me how to read before I went to kindergarten. But that was nothing, he taught my older sister to recite, in order, all U.S Presidents when she was four. More than that, he also instilled in me a love of learning. So by the time I went to kindergarten, I could read while all the other kids were learning their letters.

     The teachers just didn't know what to do with me.  I remember Mrs. Gandy placing a pillow on the floor in the corner of the classroom with a stack of books. Fortunately for Mrs. Gandy I was a very dutiful, obedient, polite child and just sat there and read.  And read. And read.

2nd Grade
Still not thrilled with school,
 but at least I'm rocking an awesome corduroy vest!

     At the ripe old age of six this whole school thing had already let me down. I did not want to go to school. I did not like school. I was going to find a way to escape from this institutionalized nightmare.

    The night before first grade started I was having a puke fest.  This began a tradition that continued throughout elementary school. However, all the wretching did not earn me an extra day at home.  My mom, a.k.a. "the education police",sent me anyway.

     In middle school I abandoned the puking and ventured into bolder territory.  I simply locked myself in my room and refused to come out.  This worked until about 11 am when mom called dad at the office and had him return to the house to help her deal with me. You better believe I was out of that room before she put the phone down. And yes, she took me straight to school.

     All these years later I still have unresolved issues with school. Allen and I took Zane to his orientation last Friday.  The minute I stepped in the doors of that school my stomach lurched.  The smell.....the very same smell....THAT smell....what is that smell anyway?  The smell of old books, paste, and crayons (which smell an awful lot like body odor!) and, oh yes, FEAR. 

     We met again in that hallway on Friday, my fear and I. This time I won.  My stomach churned and my jaws watered, but it did not beat me this time.  As we were retreating leaving I was silently congratulating myself on a hard fought victory.  I had conquered my fears!  My victory was short lived though. Zane interrupted my personal cheering section by announcing that he was going to be sick.  He was totally telling the truth. 

     And all I could think was "That's my boy!"