I would like to post a series of stories/essays I have written
that touch on the topic of education, teaching, and childhood.
This is the first:
Sent Back
A memory of moving from grade 2 to grade 1.
MaryAnn Faubion Kohl
It was 1953, and I was in Mrs. Jones’ grade two class, a year younger than everyone else in the class due to a curiously high IQ score given orally to me by Mr. Billings, the principal. Mr. Billings liked me and I can remember how he helped draw out my answers. He believed I knew them and just needed a little encouragement. What he didn’t know was that I didn’t know them, but I was great with clues. Therefore, however it came about, I skipped kindergarten and started school in grade one with Mrs. Kelly (another story to tell of how mean a teacher can be).
Now it was grade two, and the IQ conundrum was catching up with me. I was unable to see the chalkboard well due to immature eyesight, and was prescribed glasses with a jaunty red paid design. I diligently cleaned those glasses with a special cloth and cleansing solution over and over (when I should have been listening). There were many times Mrs. Jones called on me and I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. I couldn’t do the arithmetic on the board, couldn’t even see the board from my desk in the third row, didn’t understand what was happening around me on any given topic, and though I could read, I couldn’t comprehend. Most of all, I was a dedicated tattler. I thought it was important to keep Mrs. Jones apprised of misbehavior in the classroom and on the playground. Here was one area where I could understand the rules of who was or was not behaving. Sorry to say, tattling was not well received by Mrs. Jones.
Apparently my immature performance in grade two was a concern to all. Mrs. Jones suggested to my mom that I be sent back to grade one because I “lacked the basic foundation to do second grade work”. My mom talked it over with me, and it didn’t sound too bad the way she explained it. I knew what "flunked" meant, but was assured I had not actually flunked. I was simply too young for grade two, and some of my same-age neighbor friends were in grade one, and all would be well. I agreed. Readily. My mom promised that if it didn’t work out, I could go back to Mrs. Jones’ class. I had no desire to return there, so I was comfortable with the change, like, how soon can we get started?!
After Christmas break, the perfect time to make a change, I walked into Mrs. Flood’s grade one class with Mr. Billings holding my hand. All the children were in their seats, for class had already begun. I was very nervous and shy and unsure of myself, more so than usual. As I entered, good kind Mrs. Flood said, “Oh, look, boys and girls, MaryAnn is here! She’s going to be our arithmetic helper because I hear she’s very good at arithmetic.” (“Me?” I wondered, “Good at arithmetic? Good at anything?”) “MaryAnn, sit right there next to Susan in the desk we have saved for you. She is going to be your friend today and help you learn your way around our classroom.”
I sat by Susan. And she was to become my very BEST friend.
I gazed up at the chalkboard, and there to my surprise was “The Alphabet”, all spread out nicely on bright illustrated cards just above the board, showing upper and lower case and their beginning sounds. Aa, apple. Bb, bear. Cc,cat. I thought to myself, "I know those letters! I'm going to love first grade!"
I never looked back that year, or shall I say, forward. Grade two was a misty memory. Mrs. Flood was a wonderful sensitive teacher who carefully watched for securing my success and comfort in her class. And I’ve been happy and successful ever since.
that touch on the topic of education, teaching, and childhood.
This is the first:
Sent Back
A memory of moving from grade 2 to grade 1.
MaryAnn Faubion Kohl
It was 1953, and I was in Mrs. Jones’ grade two class, a year younger than everyone else in the class due to a curiously high IQ score given orally to me by Mr. Billings, the principal. Mr. Billings liked me and I can remember how he helped draw out my answers. He believed I knew them and just needed a little encouragement. What he didn’t know was that I didn’t know them, but I was great with clues. Therefore, however it came about, I skipped kindergarten and started school in grade one with Mrs. Kelly (another story to tell of how mean a teacher can be).
Now it was grade two, and the IQ conundrum was catching up with me. I was unable to see the chalkboard well due to immature eyesight, and was prescribed glasses with a jaunty red paid design. I diligently cleaned those glasses with a special cloth and cleansing solution over and over (when I should have been listening). There were many times Mrs. Jones called on me and I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. I couldn’t do the arithmetic on the board, couldn’t even see the board from my desk in the third row, didn’t understand what was happening around me on any given topic, and though I could read, I couldn’t comprehend. Most of all, I was a dedicated tattler. I thought it was important to keep Mrs. Jones apprised of misbehavior in the classroom and on the playground. Here was one area where I could understand the rules of who was or was not behaving. Sorry to say, tattling was not well received by Mrs. Jones.
Apparently my immature performance in grade two was a concern to all. Mrs. Jones suggested to my mom that I be sent back to grade one because I “lacked the basic foundation to do second grade work”. My mom talked it over with me, and it didn’t sound too bad the way she explained it. I knew what "flunked" meant, but was assured I had not actually flunked. I was simply too young for grade two, and some of my same-age neighbor friends were in grade one, and all would be well. I agreed. Readily. My mom promised that if it didn’t work out, I could go back to Mrs. Jones’ class. I had no desire to return there, so I was comfortable with the change, like, how soon can we get started?!
After Christmas break, the perfect time to make a change, I walked into Mrs. Flood’s grade one class with Mr. Billings holding my hand. All the children were in their seats, for class had already begun. I was very nervous and shy and unsure of myself, more so than usual. As I entered, good kind Mrs. Flood said, “Oh, look, boys and girls, MaryAnn is here! She’s going to be our arithmetic helper because I hear she’s very good at arithmetic.” (“Me?” I wondered, “Good at arithmetic? Good at anything?”) “MaryAnn, sit right there next to Susan in the desk we have saved for you. She is going to be your friend today and help you learn your way around our classroom.”
I sat by Susan. And she was to become my very BEST friend.
I gazed up at the chalkboard, and there to my surprise was “The Alphabet”, all spread out nicely on bright illustrated cards just above the board, showing upper and lower case and their beginning sounds. Aa, apple. Bb, bear. Cc,cat. I thought to myself, "I know those letters! I'm going to love first grade!"
I never looked back that year, or shall I say, forward. Grade two was a misty memory. Mrs. Flood was a wonderful sensitive teacher who carefully watched for securing my success and comfort in her class. And I’ve been happy and successful ever since.
Me too. I never belonged in the higher grade. My principal was overzealous in helping me guess the answers to the questions. Later when I was in about sixth grade, I talked to him about it, and he agreed, that he had pushed the "help envelope" a little too hard. We became quite good friends because of it. I like to think there are always plusses in the middle of error.
Posted by: MaryAnn F. Kohl | Tuesday, July 20, 2010 at 04:23 PM
Testing can be a double edged sword.
Glad to know that coming back to first grade worked really well in your case.
Posted by: utbtkids | Tuesday, July 20, 2010 at 04:08 PM