I got to thinking what life was like during Kindergarten.

Success was ... Keeping the colors inside the lines
Failure was ... Needing to change your underwear
Friendship was ... Sharing a cookie
Romance was ... Finger painting together
Love was ... A puppy ... ANY puppy
Summer recreation was ... A lawn and a sprinkler
Winter recreation was ... Mittens, boots, a hill, and SNOW
Eating out was ... PB&J sandwich and a glass of milk on the porch
Fear was ... The DARK
Bravery was ... Sleeping with no night light
Pleasure was... Grandpa's home made peach ice cream
Pain was ... Merthiolate on cuts and scrapes
Adventure was ... The OTHER side of the street
Religion was ...... "And God bless mommy and daddy ... Amen"

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Y. B. Ord & A. Ree

Fear was when my teacher sent a note home requesting that they come in to visit her.

Relief was having the teacher reminisce with them about how she was THEIR kindergarten teacher 20 years before.

Fear was when she sent a note home the second time, this time to tell them that I needed glasses.

Sadness was when I got my first glasses and HAD to wear them.

Sadness. . . . When my 1st first grade teacher got pregnant and finally had to go on maternity leave.

Fear . . . . When Mrs Bennington replaced my beloved 1st first grade teacher. A huge mountain of a woman that I suspect was banned from Valhalla for being too mean, cruel, angry and hateful towards children.

I too had a Mrs. B in the 3rd grade.
May she forever torment the Devil to his face.

I’ve had my fair share of disciplinarian teachers. Or mean if you will. I also did best in their classes and was always on the Honor Roll…… teachers and administrators today should take note of that.

I have forgotten "Mrs B's" real name, but not the physical and psychological punishment that seemed to be her specialty.
But she was the only real bad apple that I ever had.

I was never what you would call a good student, most of the time I was bored in class and took the opportunity to goof off. Over the years, I have had several hard, soft, strict and disciplined instructors but there have been a few, bright, shining examples of what I would call Teachers; those I do remember by name.

Third Grade I had to have Glasses (during WWII). Eye exam before Glasses
involved eye drops that blurred your vision for three days.
After Glasses my nick name at school and in the neighborhood forever was "Four Eyes"

Makes me think of Matthew 18:3.

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Now go make God proud...

Fear was my father telling me if you act up in class one more time, I'm going to school and sit in the chair next to you all day long. That fixed the problem, he was not one to bluff.

I did that with my grandson (whom I was raising after my daughter died). This Grandpa doesn't bluff either.

Fear was also the sound of a leather belt clearing the belt loops on Dad’s jeans…. Or, Mom grabbing the piece of Hot Wheels track!

Happiness was watching dad sneak up behind mom in the kitchen when she was doing the dishes after dinner and grabbing her for a sudden hug from behind.

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Music/Sports/Beer fan

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Music/Sports/Beer fan

I fondly remember many times being in the backyard when mom was fixing dinner and dad came home. I would hear mom squeal " OH MORTON !! .... cut that OUT !! But you could just hear the fun smile in her voice

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Y. B. Ord & A. Ree

I was a frequent flyer of the hot wheels, wooden spoon and when truly rotten the 6 most feared words on the planet "wait till your father get's home" and the belt loop symphony. I also did the one-armed spinning tango with mom when she tried to administer punishment. I leaned early on go ahead and let mom do the spanking.

I had a 3rd grade teacher named Mrs. Hommons not sure of the spelling. She only had a right hand, but the left was just a stump at the wrist. That woman scared the daylights of me and all the other children. I think some of the parents were scared of her as well. We were all well behaved in her class.

On a more pleasant side, happiness was riding your Tonka dump truck down the hill. Second only to a neighbor getting some large appliance so you and the other kids could make forts out of the box!

Yup, the cardboard boxes were always a big deal.

That ain't nothing....

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I agree with all......Except I was raised in the country......No streets. No close in neighborhoods and DIRT roads........I was roaming the woods at age 8 with a20 ga SS shotgun.........As long as you got home by dark....All was well.

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S&W Accumulator

I got a slow start. I started roaming the wood alone at 11 when my brother started driving and with a SS 22 at 13. Mom's voice didn't carry well in the woods, but I could hear that police whistle far more than 2 farms away!! The dogs didn't so much as keep me out of trouble as get me out of trouble!

Ivan

I was a town kid....but lived in the woods or on the rivers/bay.. We had 3 farms in town. My time to be home was when street lights came on...cept in hunting seasons....Full dark in winter. My SS was a Win 410 at 9 yo. My fav teacher was Miss Baxter...Some kinda Aunt...but I seemed to be related to everybody...cause everybody would swat my butt If I did what I shouldn't.

Freedom was getting my first bike.Second dose of freedom was buying a homemade mini bike from a classmate at 13 with my paper route money. My parents friends would rat me out for riding in moderate traffic (mom worked and I wasn’t allowed to ride on the streets) I sold it at the end of that summer for a modest profit

May have told this before............When I was a young(1968) my Dad "share cropped" a small patch of watermelons with me......Stipulating that an profits left over after buying my school clothes would be mine to spend.
I had at the time a Winchester 290 that I had paid $60.00 for several years earlier...... Back in the day when you could walk in the store. Buy a gun and walk out(just like buying a shovel)
Anyways I traded that and $20.00 to the local Western Auto for a Browning .22 SAR.....That I still have today.
Anyways the jist of this tale is I would wrap that Browning in a towel and tie it to the "boy bar" on my bicycle. It went everywhere with me..
Back then .22LR was around 50 cents a box.

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S&W Accumulator

From a book about the psychology of educating
the young ones.

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Have Fun/Stay Safe