It's funny to read these old writings of mine, and notice all the grammatical errors. In my mind, I was really smart and had a perfect grasp of the English language.
5 years of teaching English has sharpened my eye, and I now see spelling errors everywhere. In fact, at the Deals on S. Kingshighway, there was a sign up yesterday reading "Sorry we our out of helium. Thank you." Thank you for what? For not barging into the store like a crazed rhino screaming "WHO WROTE THAT SIGN? WHY DO YOU HAVE A JOB? TAKE IT DOWN NOOOOWWWWW so my husband and I can stop giggling in the parking lot." Oh, how I long for a camera phone.
March 10, 1987
Today was boring. I have to be in a group with DJ (snob) and VS for Reading. That is the most boringest class in the history of Earth. I must write a letter to Paul in Ireland asking for lotsa information on Ireland for our project in Reading. He better write back!
I have to get some sleep since I got hardly any last night because I babysit Mondays and Wednesdays.
My hermit crab might be dead!!! Waaahhhh!! :(
Yes indeedy, "most boringest". The teacher, Ms. Behler, had dark blonde permed hair which resembled a poodle's ears. She was always very tan. Rumor had it that she was doing our assistant principal Mr. Righi. I hated her because she ended every sentence spoken to a student with "pumpkin", "sweetie", "honey", etc, etc. She was chirpy and bubbly and made me hate the one thing I used to love the most in the world-reading. I didn't need to know how to find the meanings of words in context. I knew all the vocabulary words she gave us. My reading speed was off the charts, as was my comprehension. Heck, I was probably reading when I popped out of Carolyn!
And the hermit crabs-we had a couple, and they were pretty interesting pets. Each new school year, my French teacher Madame Stern would ask "How are your crabs, Allison?" much to the amusement of my classmates. For the rest of the day, the cool kids would echo her words in the hallway. I hated the first day of French class.
Back then, I thought she didn't know the double entendre (ha! I DO know French!) of her words, but now I know she did it to torment me. I talked a LOT in French class, both in English and French.
So now I teach reading, and I can only hope I'm not killing some kid's favorite activity. Wait-65% of my school's students read below a 7th grade level, so I guess I'm safe!
Paul was my Irish penpal who corresponded with me for years. I developed a crush on him, and dreamed of moving to Ireland to marry him and hang out with U2. He came to Boston once, and we hung out, and he wore a tie-dye t-shirt, successfully dashing all my fantasies of becoming an Irish citizen. Sorry, Bono, we'll never get to chill!