Being smart was the only thing I felt good about. I didn’t think I was cute, and I’d already learned that there was currency in being cute. K thought being in the gifted program made me feel superior, when in reality, being smart was the only thing that kept me from feeling inferior. If a riot is the language of the unheard, then a prank call is the language of the grade school goodie two shoes falsely accused. So I guess being smart was fine as long as she’d given birth to you. K had no problem telling the class long-winded stories about her college-aged sons and how brilliant they were. K* tell another teacher that she didn’t like the weekly gifted-and-talented pull-out program because it was disruptive and because it made the smart kids think we were better than everyone else. And staying in teachers’ good graces was important to me - until sixth grade when I had a teacher who had disdain for the kids who got good grades. And I learned early on in elementary school that following the rules and getting good grades was an easy way to stay in the teachers’ good graces. ![]() So I guess it would be more accurate to say I was a full-fledged goodie two shoes back then. ![]() The kid who wielded that piece of chalk like a weapon and wouldn’t hesitate to write your name on the board if you made a sound or got out of your seat, in the teacher’s absence. The kind of kid teachers in the late 70s and early 80s left in charge of the classroom when they had to step out for a moment. Forever on honor roll, obedient, well-mannered, and respectful.
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