It is not easy for me to think of
my school days without seeming to breathe in something cold and evil-smelling…
My school days weren’t cold or
evil-smelling except for when I upset my mom before a school lesson. Why did it
matter if I upset my mom? It was because
she was also my teacher. Having your
parents as teachers can be rather upsetting for students because you can’t get
away with anything! Parent teacher
conferences...oh yeah they were tight my parents and my teachers. It was almost like they were one and the
same…weird. I did feel a little chill
inside my soul whenever my mom pulled out an algebra or science book –
especially physics. You could have put
that textbook on someone’s chest and the weight of it probably would have
killed them! Terminal velocity – heck! Terminally dead! I, instead, preferred the little reading of
War and Peace and the collaborative works of Shakespeare, especially if they
were the condensed Readers Digest versions.
In all honesty however, the broad spectrum and materials that my mom
made me learn have had a positive impact of my life. My father was never one for the books either,
unless you count using them to prop open the garage door for fresh air when he
was changing oil on our Jeep Grand Cherokee.
That’s why he was in charge of the PE and workshop part of my
education. I can not only count to one
hundred, but I can change a flat tire, sharpen lawn mower blades on a bench
grinder, and lift 50# bags of concrete mix.
I’m also quite flexible due to the number of painting projects I’ve
participated in. Two houses later and I
can extend my arm for over six inches. I
feel fairly accomplished in what I learned from my parents and my
teachers.
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