Second grade was taught by Sister Antoninus, a terminally short, elderly lady whose appearance belied her true demeanor. She was a tremendously kind old soul and a wonderful teacher. I remember getting in trouble for making fun of a kid who'd brought in a go-bot, which was clearly inferior to the transformers. He squealed, the little bitch. Also got a kid to switch schools. He was my archenemy at the time; a bully of unparalleled redneck proportions. He lived in a log cabin, I mean, c'mon. (Actually I wouldn't mind living in one, it would be kinda neat.. but I still would prefer a castle with a moat.. a big moat... make that an island castle... anyway..). We were constantly getting into it at recess, and one day it escalated to the point where we were throwing rocks at one another. Little did he know my dad had been a sniper in the army. I tossed one his way and it hit him square in the eye. His parents transferred him a few weeks later, and that was that.
more to come today if i get unbusy.
