1st Grade
“When you are writing I would like you to use your best penmanship,” said Mrs. Koyle.
I remember sitting at the dining room table practicing this week’s spelling words with my dad as he sipped his morning coffee. This particular week there was a difficult spelling word. The word was together. I remember my dad telling me, “Kelli, it’s not hard. It has a lot of letters but if you break the word there are three small words in this one big word.”
I asked, “What do you mean, dad. It’s one word. How can three words be in one word?” “Look, there are three words: to, get, and her” said my dad. “Well Mrs. Koyle would make me put spaces between those words” I replied. I was not convinced my dad was telling me the truth. After all, the smartest person in the world to me was my first grade teacher, Mrs. Koyle.
My dad then got out a piece of paper and went into detail about the word “together.” “Oh, I get is dad. It’s three small words pushed together to make one big word,” I said. “Yes, it is kind of like that,” said my dad. “Wow dad, how did you know that? You are so smart. I am going to tell Mrs. Koyle this secret.” I said proudly to my dad.
“The next word I would like you to spell is, together,” said Mrs. Koyle. This is probably where Mrs. Koyle wanted to ring my little neck. “Yes, Kelli,” said Mrs. Koyle. “I am very sorry Mrs. Koyle but I accidentally spelled the word “together” as three separate words. I put spaces between the three little words: to, get, and her. I don’t want you to mark this word wrong because I put spaces between the three little words: to, get, and her,” I said as my name was called because I raised my hand.
Mrs. Koyle tried her best to ignore what I just said. She really tried hard to make lightly of the situation. I, once again raised my hand and Mrs. Koyle called on me. “I know I got a 100% on this spelling test or less you use the red pen and mark the word “together” wrong because I put spaces between the three little words: to, get, and her,” I said.
“Kelli, I am going to ask you to not ask any more questions until after this spelling test is completed, okay?” said Mrs. Koyle. I replied almost in tears, “Okay, but if I miss this word because I put spaces in the three little words: to, get, and her I will not be able to stay up past my bedtime one night.” Mrs. Koyle so patiently but sternly replied, “Kelli, I do not want to hear your voice again.” “Oh, Mrs. Koyle I am so sorry. I really do know how to spell the word together: T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R,” I said in a very sad tone.
Finally Mrs. Koyle completely ignored me. After the spelling test was completed, she called me up to her desk. “I think it’s great you know the trick to spelling this word, but you can’t share it with your friends during the test,” said Mrs. Koyle. “Well, I didn’t share it with any of my friends because my dad taught me this secret. Did he teach this secret to you, too?” I said back to Mrs. Koyle. “No, your dad did not teach me this trick. He is very smart for teaching you this trick though. In fact, I think it’s such a great trick you should share it with your classmates. How about you go to the chalkboard and tell your classmates your secret,” said Mrs. Koyle in a chuckling voice.
Looking back now on this situation I can’t help to think how annoying I was. I admired Mrs. Koyle for not getting upset and yelling at me. Instead, she remained calm, collect and cool. I think the best thing about this whole situation is that she let me share my “secret” to my classmates. Mrs. Koyle easily recognized that I was very proud I knew this “secret” and that I thought my dad was extremely intelligent. I like how Mrs. Koyle turned a not so ideal situation into a learning experience.
I remember sitting at the dining room table practicing this week’s spelling words with my dad as he sipped his morning coffee. This particular week there was a difficult spelling word. The word was together. I remember my dad telling me, “Kelli, it’s not hard. It has a lot of letters but if you break the word there are three small words in this one big word.”
I asked, “What do you mean, dad. It’s one word. How can three words be in one word?” “Look, there are three words: to, get, and her” said my dad. “Well Mrs. Koyle would make me put spaces between those words” I replied. I was not convinced my dad was telling me the truth. After all, the smartest person in the world to me was my first grade teacher, Mrs. Koyle.
My dad then got out a piece of paper and went into detail about the word “together.” “Oh, I get is dad. It’s three small words pushed together to make one big word,” I said. “Yes, it is kind of like that,” said my dad. “Wow dad, how did you know that? You are so smart. I am going to tell Mrs. Koyle this secret.” I said proudly to my dad.
“The next word I would like you to spell is, together,” said Mrs. Koyle. This is probably where Mrs. Koyle wanted to ring my little neck. “Yes, Kelli,” said Mrs. Koyle. “I am very sorry Mrs. Koyle but I accidentally spelled the word “together” as three separate words. I put spaces between the three little words: to, get, and her. I don’t want you to mark this word wrong because I put spaces between the three little words: to, get, and her,” I said as my name was called because I raised my hand.
Mrs. Koyle tried her best to ignore what I just said. She really tried hard to make lightly of the situation. I, once again raised my hand and Mrs. Koyle called on me. “I know I got a 100% on this spelling test or less you use the red pen and mark the word “together” wrong because I put spaces between the three little words: to, get, and her,” I said.
“Kelli, I am going to ask you to not ask any more questions until after this spelling test is completed, okay?” said Mrs. Koyle. I replied almost in tears, “Okay, but if I miss this word because I put spaces in the three little words: to, get, and her I will not be able to stay up past my bedtime one night.” Mrs. Koyle so patiently but sternly replied, “Kelli, I do not want to hear your voice again.” “Oh, Mrs. Koyle I am so sorry. I really do know how to spell the word together: T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R,” I said in a very sad tone.
Finally Mrs. Koyle completely ignored me. After the spelling test was completed, she called me up to her desk. “I think it’s great you know the trick to spelling this word, but you can’t share it with your friends during the test,” said Mrs. Koyle. “Well, I didn’t share it with any of my friends because my dad taught me this secret. Did he teach this secret to you, too?” I said back to Mrs. Koyle. “No, your dad did not teach me this trick. He is very smart for teaching you this trick though. In fact, I think it’s such a great trick you should share it with your classmates. How about you go to the chalkboard and tell your classmates your secret,” said Mrs. Koyle in a chuckling voice.
Looking back now on this situation I can’t help to think how annoying I was. I admired Mrs. Koyle for not getting upset and yelling at me. Instead, she remained calm, collect and cool. I think the best thing about this whole situation is that she let me share my “secret” to my classmates. Mrs. Koyle easily recognized that I was very proud I knew this “secret” and that I thought my dad was extremely intelligent. I like how Mrs. Koyle turned a not so ideal situation into a learning experience.
2nd Grade
Mrs. Valentine was a rather short woman with bushy hair. Her voice was high pitched and often squeaked like an adolescent going through puberty. I don’t recall many moments without Mrs. Valentine having a large smile on her face. All students always wanted to work hard and impress Mrs. Valentine to be awarded with tickets to the treasure check or “special time.”
I remember sitting in her classroom, first row, and second seat back right by Mrs. Valentine’s desk. After practicing this week's spelling words, she turned on music for us to listen to. All students were confused with what was going on. Mrs. Valentine then started to clap her hands to the beat of the music- eventually all students joined in. All students were still confused with what was going on, as this was not music class.
After the song was over, Mrs. Valentine wrote the following words on the board: together, happy, friends, and happier. She said each word very slowly multiple times. Then she would say the word slowly and we would repeat the way back to her, just as slow.
This is where the confusion really started for me. Mrs. Valentine started explaining what a syllabus is. She clapped every time there was a new syllabus with the words she had on the board. This for some reason just didn’t make sense to me. I could anticipate other student’s clasps, so it looked as if I understood what syllabus were.
Then the worksheet came. The worksheet had many words and the directions were to determine how many syllabuses each word had and to write that number on the line next to each word. So I quickly completed the worksheet, as it was a race to the first one to turn in the worksheet and off to recess I went.
Mrs. Bowlby, a round and happy lunch lady found me while I was playing freeze tag and told me I had to go in early to see Mrs. Valentine. I was thrilled! I thought my second grade teacher wanted to spend “special time” with me.
Wrong! Mrs. Valentine shows me the worksheet I turned in. It was covered with red marks. I remember her explaining to me that life is not a race and that I was to re-do this assignment and take my time. Tears instantly poured from my green eyes. I had to stay in the rest of recess to complete this dreaded syllabus worksheet, again. I was not able to complete the entire worksheet so I had to take it home as homework.
I hated homework. I frequently lied to my parents about never having homework. After getting in trouble a few times from my parents about lying about homework, I quickly learned it was in my best interest to complete the required homework. I started working on the worksheet with my mother’s assistance. She easily grasped I did not understand syllabuses in any way. After hours of working on this worksheet, I was finally able to grasp this concept. From that day on my family had the honor of hearing how many syllabuses were in just about every word I read- I even clapped my hands. To say the least, I made grocery shopping entreating for my mother. Car rides were also a joy as I not only practiced my syllabus but I also learned states from their license plates.
The next day I turned in my syllabus to Mrs. Valentine with a smile the size of the Atlantic Ocean. I was so proud of this worksheet with multiple eraser marks. I was able to stay outside for the whole recess as I achieved a 100% of this worksheet. Mrs. Valentine complimented me how well I did. I was able to tell Mrs. Valentine that my mom helped me. The best thing about this worksheet and the struggles I went through was that I was able to obtain three tickets to the treasure chest.
I remember sitting in her classroom, first row, and second seat back right by Mrs. Valentine’s desk. After practicing this week's spelling words, she turned on music for us to listen to. All students were confused with what was going on. Mrs. Valentine then started to clap her hands to the beat of the music- eventually all students joined in. All students were still confused with what was going on, as this was not music class.
After the song was over, Mrs. Valentine wrote the following words on the board: together, happy, friends, and happier. She said each word very slowly multiple times. Then she would say the word slowly and we would repeat the way back to her, just as slow.
This is where the confusion really started for me. Mrs. Valentine started explaining what a syllabus is. She clapped every time there was a new syllabus with the words she had on the board. This for some reason just didn’t make sense to me. I could anticipate other student’s clasps, so it looked as if I understood what syllabus were.
Then the worksheet came. The worksheet had many words and the directions were to determine how many syllabuses each word had and to write that number on the line next to each word. So I quickly completed the worksheet, as it was a race to the first one to turn in the worksheet and off to recess I went.
Mrs. Bowlby, a round and happy lunch lady found me while I was playing freeze tag and told me I had to go in early to see Mrs. Valentine. I was thrilled! I thought my second grade teacher wanted to spend “special time” with me.
Wrong! Mrs. Valentine shows me the worksheet I turned in. It was covered with red marks. I remember her explaining to me that life is not a race and that I was to re-do this assignment and take my time. Tears instantly poured from my green eyes. I had to stay in the rest of recess to complete this dreaded syllabus worksheet, again. I was not able to complete the entire worksheet so I had to take it home as homework.
I hated homework. I frequently lied to my parents about never having homework. After getting in trouble a few times from my parents about lying about homework, I quickly learned it was in my best interest to complete the required homework. I started working on the worksheet with my mother’s assistance. She easily grasped I did not understand syllabuses in any way. After hours of working on this worksheet, I was finally able to grasp this concept. From that day on my family had the honor of hearing how many syllabuses were in just about every word I read- I even clapped my hands. To say the least, I made grocery shopping entreating for my mother. Car rides were also a joy as I not only practiced my syllabus but I also learned states from their license plates.
The next day I turned in my syllabus to Mrs. Valentine with a smile the size of the Atlantic Ocean. I was so proud of this worksheet with multiple eraser marks. I was able to stay outside for the whole recess as I achieved a 100% of this worksheet. Mrs. Valentine complimented me how well I did. I was able to tell Mrs. Valentine that my mom helped me. The best thing about this worksheet and the struggles I went through was that I was able to obtain three tickets to the treasure chest.