A boy and an Ice Cream Bar

With all good intentions I attended school with an eager enthusiasm to learn.  The first lessens this young child was taught had to do with rules.  I needed to understand that I was no longer the young Italian prince I thought I was.  I became just another student in a class of fifty students.  This was very unfamiliar to me the little Italian prince.  At home my mother loved and cared for me and each of my needs.  My older sister, Marianne, catered to me when mom was watching, but this young prince needed to watch out when we were alone.  My younger brother, Sam, disrupted my much needed attention from my mother, just because he had a little difficulty breathing.  He was the second boy born into our Italian family so he must have known he was not as important as me.  I think that is why he started his life with some breathing problem.  All Sam really wanted was to steal mom away from me.  It did not work Mom still loved me the best.

Well back to my school life.  I really did not have problems with school work.  I had problems with rules.  I was a young Italian prince and I did not need to follow rules.  This became best understood by me when I was a third grader.  In Sister Julie’s class if you misbehaved you had to stay after school and catch the late bus with the older students. This was thought to be a tough punishment for third graders because you would not arrive home on time.  This was a signal to your parents that you were in trouble and would need to explain what occurred at school.  I thought it would be a bad thing because I might miss the Rin Tin Tin TV show.  Thinking back to my third grade time this type of punishment really was not so bad.  In second grade the teacher made me stand in the corner of the room, and that was not so bad either.

Well Sister Julie made just one mistake when I had my first detention in her class.  After all the other students left class to return home, I was the only student left to serve my detention.  Sister Julie had me sit up straight with my hands folded together on the top of my desk.  She then left the room stating that she would be right back.  Of course as soon as she left, my hands became unfolded and I slouched in my desk.  She surprised me with how quickly she returned causing me to quickly sit up straight and fold my hands on top of my desk.  Much to my surprise in her hands she had two Ice Cream Bars!  She came close to me and handing me one of the Ice Cream Bars, she then sat down next to me and begin talking about behaving better in class.

I do not remember much of what she said to me, but I do remember just how tasty that fifty-fifty Ice Cream Bar was.  It was just one week later and I needed to stay after class once again for detention.  Guess what!  The same thing happened again.  I got an Ice Cream Bar and Sister Julie explained why it would be nice if I behaved in class.  Darn those Ice Cream Bars were really good and all I needed to do was misbehave to get one.  Life had just improved for this young Italian prince.

There were no Ice Cream bars in fourth grade, nor were there any Ice Cream bars in any of my other grades but there was lots and lots of detention.  See how bad an Ice Cream bar can be!

A Young Student

I want to tell you a story about my early years.  My memory is not what it used to be so forgive me if my earliest days start with my first year in school.  As the oldest boy in the family I started school at the early age of four.  I became five during my first year of kindergarten.  I was the youngest child in my class.  I was also a cute little boy and all the girls in my class wanted to play with me.  I played tag, jump rope (not well), ball, and house.  I did not play hopscotch much because my older sister never taught me how to toss the little thing into the squares.
My teacher liked me because I was a little shy my first year of school.  This did not last very long and by first grade I was a student the teachers liked to sit in the front of the class.  Thanks to the effort of eight wonderful teachers I became a young educated person.  These wonderful teachers did all this before my graduation into high school.

I went to public school for my first year and grades one to eight were spent at a catholic grammar school.  Even though my oldest sister Marianne started school years ahead of me my enrollment aided both my mom and dad to become frequent visitors at my school.  Oh the skills they accrued. After graduation I applied for and was accepted at both catholic high schools.  I was looking forward to attending high school.  It was my understanding that high school students selected the classes they needed to attend.

I went to my first high school councilors meeting prior to starting high school.  It was a sad meeting because he was telling me all about the classes I would be taking during my four years of high school.  I tried to explain why I wanted to select some of my classes, but my councilor informed me that based on my test scores these were the classes I must take.  As I remember there may have been a little yelling but I am sure that I did not swear at him.  Anyway by the time I got home the high school had called my father and explained that I was just not the right type of student for their high school.  I am sure My dad had to learn how to control his temper and not yell at the bad councilor.

Through out my life I have always wondered, does it count if you are tossed out of high school before you even start?  I was sure it did not count so I just went to the other high school.  That school was in another city so it was necessary for me to catch a train to attend high school.  Guess what I learned.  High schools talk to each other and they do not ask you to really explain what happened.  I went to my first counseling session and the brother explained the school rules first and then informed me what classes I would need to take if I expected to graduate.  I kept my promise to my father and did not argue with my counselor.  I started high school and life was good.  I enjoyed high school except for the multiple visits to the dean of men.  I was also not very happy with detention. However both Mom and Dad were able to use the skills they gained in their discussions with my multiple teachers during my grammar school years, again now that I was in High School when they had to meet with the schools Dean of Boys.

By the end of the third month of my first year of High School, I thought that detention was my ninth period class.  At the end of my freshman year the dean of men scheduled what he hoped to be the final meeting with my father and mother.  The bottom line was very simple; I could transfer to another school or graduates from this high school and continue for one additional year to complete my accrued detention.  My fate was sealed.  I would be attending another high school in the fall.  I started my second year of high school in the public school system.  I was considered a good student due to my grades.  My behavior did not change but for some reason it was a little more acceptable in the public school system.