AUGUST 3, 2022 – I have three sisters, two older, one younger. The older ones have always been at the head of the class—any class in which they’ve found themselves. When we were growing up, each was my gold standard for brains, talent, and deportment. As far as I knew and observed, they always toed the line, obeyed the rules, and otherwise behaved themselves.
My kid sister Jenny? Quite a different story. Her delinquency started in first—or rather, second—grade. After Jenny’s year of kindergarten, our mom knew that the precocious kid would be quite bored in first grade. Miss Murphy, Jenny’s kindergarten teacher, agreed. Meetings with school authorities ensued, including Jenny’s session with the district psychologist—a guy in a crew cut and wearing a narrow necktie.
According to Jenny, the man wasn’t very sharp, though his last name happened to be “Smart.” She assessed him based on “the dumb questions he asked.” These included holding up images of common objects and asking Jenny to identify them. She was miffed because the “dumb questions” didn’t allow her to demonstrate higher abilities. When she climbed into the car after this all-important session, Mom (who was in the habit of waiting outside in the car during all of Jenny’s childhood appointments) asked how the meeting had gone. “For a guy named Smart,” said Jenny, “he sure was dumb.”
He turned out to be smart enough, however, to endorse Jenny’s skipping first grade. The day after Labor Day, she found her way to the second grade classroom of Mrs. “No Nonsense” Nelson. A few days into the gig, things went south when Mrs. Nelson instructed the class to take out their paper and pencils and write what she was about to dictate. Jenny panicked.
Her reading proficiency was already beyond a second-grade level, and as a future author and correspondent extraordinaire, she could tease words from a pencil like nobody’s business. What Jenny didn’t yet know was cursive. She equated “writing” with “cursive,” and began to cry thinking she was in water way over her head.
“Why are you crying?” asked No Nonsense.
“I can’t write,” said Jenny.
“That’s what you get for skipping first grade,” said No Nonsense, before proceeding to read aloud a sentence for the budding scriveners.
When it became clear that “write” meant “print,” Jenny spoke up. “If you meant ‘print,’ why didn’t you say ‘print’?” Her question was ignored.
Which, in retrospect, might explain why my kid sister turned into a juvenile delinquent . . .
. . . About this time in her life, Jenny made a solo shopping trip to Matheny’s. (See 7/28, 7/29 blog posts). She didn’t have any money, so technically, it wasn’t a shopping trip. She just wanted to check out the candy to see what money could buy—once she had some. It so happened that the Hershey bars were at the bottom of the candy rack, beyond the sight of Beryl, who was at the check-out counter. Jenny ducked down and swiped—yes, stole—a nickel chocolate bar and exited the store. (Cont.)
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
1 Comment
Jenny didn’t go shopping – she went shop-lifting!
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