Back in 1983...

Corda and I celebrated birthdays this week.  My kids are 10, 7, 5, and 14 months.  I wonder how much of their daily lives they will remember once they get to my ripe old age of 36.  I am so old that it was literally only a couple of days ago that I realized I was turning 36 and not 35.  I lost (gained?) a whole year somewhere.  I hope that they will forget the times I yelled at them and forgot to do things I promised.  Besides forgetting my age, I have forgotten most of the little details from my childhood.  Here are a few of the memories that have stayed with me.

I remember attending morning preschool at Little Elves in Manassas, Virginia.  There was one time when I had to come in face paint, probably Halloween.  My teacher commented on how cute or scary I was, and I promptly got shy and tried to rub it all off.

I remember getting chicken pox in kindergarten and spreading it to other kids in my class.  (Sorry Sudley Elementary!)  I also remember there were three Jennifer B’s in that class. 

This is the year Uptown Girl by Billy Joel came out.  I thought this was the best song ever.  I sang it all the time like little girls today sing Katy Perry songs.  I also had a thing for Culture Club - Karma Chameleon.  I was allowed to listen to it but not see the album cover.  My older sister Elizabeth was in high school, and I can picture her cassette tape collection on the wall of her room: the Police, Duran Duran, Billy Idol, the Eurythmics, Tears for Fears, Rick Springfield.

When I was in first grade, my brother had to have surgery.  My mom took me to the neighbor’s house at the crack of dawn to get a ride to school later while the rest of the family was at the hospital.  Despite the fact that her sole job was to get me to school on time, the neighbor got me to school very late.  Class was already in session and I needed a note from the office.  I didn’t like having that tardy on my permanent record. 

I remember an icy Christmas Eve around that time when we went to church and came out to find the car frozen over.  Someone had to use a lighter to melt the ice enough so that we could unlock the doors.  This struck me as very resourceful and a better use of a lighter than smoking!

At the beginning of second grade, I took some placement testing to see if I could move up to third grade.  The test administrator asked me if I liked my pencils sharp or dull.  I said that it didn’t matter and I never really thought about it.  She said that I needed to decide what kind of pencil I wanted to use because if I was distracted by anything I might not do well on the test.  I remember thinking that if third grade involved weird questions and mind games like this, maybe I didn’t want to go!  (I do not recall what kind of pencil I ultimately used, but it must have been okay, because soon enough I was packing up for Mrs. Quell's class.)

Our report cards had a box that a teacher could check to request a parent conference.  My second grade teacher checked that conference box to start this process of moving me to third grade after the first six weeks.  At the end of the second/third grade year, I took that report card and scribbled out the conference requested box because I didn't want anyone (college admission officers? my future children? Congress?) to think I needed a conference for disciplinary reasons.  Later on, I decided that wasn't enough, so in my best Ms. Bell handwriting I added a note that said "We think Dianne should be promoted to third grade."  See, I've been like this forever!!