Chapter 7: Groupies and Rainbow

Chapter 7:

Groupies and Rainbow

Fifth grade.  Oh, boy.  Not only was she flying high coming off an amicable break-up and with her eye on the next boy, she was a fifth grader.  Finally, the oldest in the school!  No one to be afraid of, bow down to…it was her clique’s turn to rule the school.  Although her friends were carefully spread out between the three fifth grade classes, they still managed to be together enough that their teachers took notice.  While she felt she was a benevolent leader, traveling in a group can be intimidating if you are not in it.  Their group name even changed from the immature “Screwballs” fifth grade year because of a teacher’s lecture. 

Early on in the year, in an attempt to squash their exclusion a lecture was made, at large, to the fifth grade class that “this groupie that is happening …” the rest of that lecture was lost on her.  Her light bulb went off and instead of adhering to a teacher’s advice (shocking, I know, for a teacher’s pet) she was convinced their name must now be “The Groupies.”  A new logo was drawn up, featuring a big G with all the other letters merged into it.  Then, to cement their choice, “Baby Got Back” came out and used the word “groupies” in it (of course we didn’t understand the connotation of the word in the rap) but were convinced it was a sure sign.   “The Groupies” would rule the fifth grade.

Fifth grade also meant devoting more time to being gifted.  She has been identified as gifted in second grade.  Not having a gifted program in her elementary school, she attended a pull-out class once a week.  In second-fourth grade, she went to a different school for one afternoon class a week.  Yeah, because that did anything.  All it did was call attention to the fact that she was different.  Luckily, she had a good rep and could pull off being smart.  One time she left to go home for lunch and mistakenly put her chair up, on auto-pilot knowing she was going home, it’s time to put your chair up.  She was horrified on the way home knowing her chair was up when everyone else would come back from lunch into the classroom.  It was like a bulls-eye on her desk- Vanessa went to a different school for the afternoon because she’s smart.  Fifth grade upped the ante and she went to a different school for one whole day a week.  Her friends got less understanding.  Whether it was jealousy, or just young bitchy girls looking for something to tear her down, who knows.  Oh, don’t feel bad for her.  She did her fair share of talking behind other girls’ backs too!   

The gifted program was called Rainbow.  No one took notice of it then, that Rainbow was a gay pride logo and rallying point was not publicly acknowledged or it was just glossed over, just like Boner on Growing Pains was just a silly, non-offensive name.  Haha, Boner. 

But she realized that people were noticing that she was leaving school once a week.  She was different.  She was smart.  She was a teacher’s pet.  Oh no…she couldn’t be cool then!  Or could she?  She was a goody-goody.  No, she was popular!  She always got 100% on homework, quizzes and tests.  But boys liked her?  The lines of popularity were becoming blurred.  She still felt she wore the crown, but it was slipping.  She became sensitive to those around here.  While she still loved learning, she saw the looks on her classmates’ faces when she always raised her hand to be called on.  Saw eyes roll when teachers would point out her work.  But she also saw looks of relief on other students’ faces when she was called on, because they knew she would deliver the correct answer and they were off the hook. 

She was faced with difficult dilemma.  If she continued on her present path of always being prepared, volunteering answers, being a model student/teacher’s pet she risked losing friends, being taunted with goody-two shoes and being called a nerd because she was smart.  But the alternative was to withdraw from school, be ashamed of being smart and not live up to her potential.  She needed to strike a compromise.  She knew she couldn’t give up being smart.  Math classes were leveled in 5^th grade with a pre-test before each chapter to separate students into appropriate classes:  high, middle or low.  Once, she pre-tested poorly and was not placed in the high group and was thoroughly embarrassed.  Her way was clear; she would continue being smart, but act like she didn’t care.  She wasn’t a nerd, she just happened to be smart. 

Oh, and another side comment.  The education field always tries to be so politically correct about grouping kids.  Calling them different types of birds, using colors, numbers, even these new labels to denote special education: none of it works.  Kids aren’t stupid.  By fifth grade, heck even by third grade, you know who is smart and who isn’t.  You can figure out if you are in the stupid group.  So any teachers or future teachers reading this, don’t worry about being cute making names for your groups.  You aren’t fooling anyone.

Chapter 6: Summer and Such

Chapter 6:
Summer and Such 

Well, apparently, the boys in the class seemed to think she was a wild, wanton woman just asking for it.  The following diary entry confirms their beliefs and her utter disgust over the whole subject:

June 3^rd, 1992

I HATE MAX!  He touched my butt twice today.  Connor did it once.  I told him awhile ago that that was one of the reasons I liked him, he respected me.  He didn’t grab my butt.  Now all of that has changed.

I DON’T KNOW MY FEELING FOR CONNOR ANYMORE!  I HATE MAX!

While she may have been giving off outward appearances of self-confidence and maturity, she was still a little girl.  It confused her to have her butt grabbed (she certainly didn’t enjoy it!) but it kept happening!  Where were the teachers whom she adored?  Why didn’t they ever catch it occurring?  Why didn’t she ever just fight back?  I guess it’s hard to kick the ones you love in the shin.  Apparently, she wasn’t going to really let this affect their relationship, so the big question was, could their young love survive a summer apart?  To answer an earlier question, going out in elementary (and for the most part middle school) means going to school and seeing each other.  Could they still go out and not be at school? 

This was only one of many dramatic happenings of this summer.  They included:

1.  Traveling to Canada (different area codes, zip codes and country codes!)

She was introduced to her older sisters' friends and returned home to regale her friends with stories of older boys, from different cities.  Oh and you know, if she had no problem lying to her diary she of course embellished these stories, making it seems as if these exotic boys from different cities with interesting accents were interested in her.  Right, because who wants two hot teenage girls when they can spend time with those girls’ ten-year old little sister?  If the boy had for some reason been on this trip, he most certainly would have been ignored.  He was only top dog in their elementary school!

2.  Using a swear word for the first time in the diary

The first word was written tentatively.  But once the first one was written, it was like a flood gate had opened.  The girl, who had once thought it was bad to sing along with the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, where the duet sings, “I had the time of my life, no I’ve never felt this way before, this I swear,” because she thought that was what swearing was and she knew swearing was off-limits.  But once that first “shit” was printed on the page, there was no going back.  After that there were lots of references of “bitch” and “ass.”   

3.  Impending puberty

This one was hard to swallow.  It was inevitable.  She was the tallest in her class, and nervous about this change that she couldn’t control.  Outwardly she used it to her advantage, to make herself seem older and more knowledgeable than her friends, but she was more embarrassed than anything.  Her mom tried to help out by bringing home books for her to read, sparing her any mortifying face-to-face information.  Even the books were bad.  She hid them in brown paper bags like a wino hiding booze and went to the attic to read them by herself.

4.  And of course boy drama, including:

August 4^th, 1992

Tomorrow is Saturday.  I’m getting my hair permed.  I can’t wait!  Guess what else?  Me and Connor broke up.  I mean I don’t know if he knows this but I don’t love him.  I just want to be friends with him.  BYE!

Yes, this is the early 90s.  Big hair was trying to make its final stand.  Oh yeah.  You’ll never believe it, but she ALWAYS wanted permed hair.  She looked at her sisters’ fat luscious locks of frizz and body and was so envious.  Her perm….fizzled out the first time she washed it.  Yes, she waited the correct amount of time before she could wash.  Her hair just NEVER would curl.  She also tried a perm when she was 21.  It didn’t work then either.  Maybe that was just good luck though...who wants a perm at age 21?   

But back to her and the boy splitting during the summer which can be explained away with a big, fat duh!  Or as they loved to say back then, Durrr.  They couldn’t go out in the summer because they literally couldn’t go out without school!  Don’t worry though, they got back together:

October 3^rd, 1992

Me and Connor are back together.  I LOVE CONNOR!

I guess sometimes short and sweet is the best diary entry.  But fourth grade is over.  It’s time to move on and gain more life experience.  This means getting her bad girl streak over with and trying to tame the bad boy.  As much as she had proclaimed her love for him and called him her first official boyfriend (since the third grade private booty-call boy never was made public), things cooled down fast in fifth grade.  Luckily, they both moved on to new flirtations and it was an amicable split.  Actually, it sort of just drifted apart.  No one ended it.  They were never upset with each other.  They did remain friends.  This would come back to bite her one day and turn her world upside-down. 

Going on a tangent from this phrase, I must make it known before I go any further.  I absolutely hate the phrase “head over heels in love,” because you are always HEAD OVER HEELS.  Anyone who isn’t is a freak who walks around on the hands instead of their feet.  If you are head over heels in love, it just means you are walking around like everyone else so shut up about it.  If you are truly, madly and crazily in love with someone and want to use a phrase, please say you are "heels over head in love."  That would make more sense to me. 

Chapter 5: The Bike Ride

 Chapter 5:

The Bike Ride

Things were slowly progressing for the two lovebirds.  Spring Break came and went, with predictable outcomes.  When she and the boy saw each other out of school, amongst different sets of friends, of course they needed to act differently to each other, like they didn’t know each other, or talk on the phone and say “I love you” every other sentence.  Isn’t that how all relationships really go?  Someone is only cool and acceptable if the whole group agrees?  Maybe she wasn’t confident in her own choice to know he was cool if her flock wasn’t around agreeing with her.  Maybe he felt the same way and she didn’t hold up in other’s eyes…

April 26, 1992

I am sick of putting up with Connor’s rude comments when he is with his friends on Spring Break.  I’m still going out with him.  I slept over Renee’s house and I wanted to walk around the block because he lives on the street behind hers.  So we did, and Connor was so rude!  He called me a geek.  I was so mad I almost slapped him across his face.  I am sick of putting up with his rude comments!

I like Connor!  Maybe.    

Don’t worry.  Spring Break ended and school was back in session.  Surrounded by the right people, they were again cool in each other’s eyes. 

April 27, 1992

Connor knows when I’m mad at him and he always makes up!  Today at lunch he found out some words in a different language and it meant “love” and he would say

“I (whatever the word was) you Erin.  Not!”  or

“I “                                   “ you, Sam.  Not!”  then he said

“I “                                    “ you, Vanessa.”  And I said, “yeah me too.”  He said, “say not now” and I said no.  Now I know he loves me and he know I love him. 

I love Connor and he loves me!

To further add to this love story, the two had a movie date.  Well, in fourth grade to celebrate the end of CAT tests, their class got to watch a movie, White Fang.  Being a little young to appreciate Ethan Hawke, Vanessa was given a golden opportunity of having her seat moved next to Connor’s and a movie?  This was “going out.”

May 9, 1992

We switched seats in school and I sit by Connor.  We watched “White Fang” in school on Friday and Miss Mann said if you can’t see come on the floor.  I heard Connor say, “don’t go.”  I didn’t.  Then he shared his cheese things with me.  Then he put one of his legs on the rungs of his desk.  I did that too.  Then I put my other leg under his shoe.  I got a feeling that felt like I had to go to the bathroom.  Connor didn’t move from the position and neither did I.  If kissing Connor feels better that that feeling I got during “White Fang” then I definitely want to kiss Connor. 

Wow....cheese things.  Candy and snacks?  This boy was the one.  I'm curious if my being a teacher’s pet allowed me to be placed by my boyfriend for most of the year.  Umm, yeah! 

Oh, and I also feel that I must add this.  While in most cases I read my diary and say, I definitely remember that and have all the memories rush back and can see the colors, smell the air, etc, I also recall sometimes lying to my diary.  Who was I trying to fool?  Did I secretly know that my sisters were reading it?  My oh-so secret under the mattress location wasn’t fooling anyone- I also kept my allowance under there as well.  While I knowingly loaned out some of my cash to my sisters actually who went out and did things that required money, and weren’t just saving it up for American Girl dolls outfits, I’m sure they also helped themselves from time to time.  I was the youngest- it happens! 

Or did I secretly know that I had the potential to be a huge bitch and was afraid of looking back and seeing myself that way?  Anyway, I know that some parts of the diary entries are exaggerated, but hey, if I kept them for all these years, why not print them as they are written?  Even if it is embarrassing, like "feeling like I had to go to the bathroom."  I guess I wasn't that poetic yet to write "feels like butterflies."  Don't worry, I will keep this as accurate as possible and remember to point out things I was lying about.

Then, came the out-of-school milestone.  The Bike Ride.  Of course, it was out of school, but still involved the regular school crowd otherwise they wouldn’t have had this interaction.  School was almost over, the weather was getting warmer and bikes were super cool.  Cars were not cool because it meant a parent was driving.  It wasn't even cool to sit in the front seat of a car.  That would be like wearing your book bag on both shoulders in middle school.  You just didn't do it.  But bikes....bikes were awesome.  

She was riding her bike up to school for the much anticipated Bicycle Rodeo.  This consisted of different competitions: stopping on a certain spot, using correct hand signals, staying in between lanes for a certain distance.  Everyone was looking forward to it, but little did she know the most exciting part would happen after the Rodeo was over.  Having successfully participated and gotten a ribbon (just for participation) she was ready to disregard the rules and ride like the wind! 

Oh, she took off through the parking lot and up the big hill by the school.  Her big plan was to peddle down the hill a certain distance, then lift her feet up onto the sweet dipped handlebars.  Oh, didn’t I mention it?  She was riding a banana-seat bike with motorcycle-like handlebars that were perfect to place your feet on and coast. 

However, something more exciting was going to happen instead!  She got to the top of the hill, started pedaling then heard a commotion behind her.  It was the boy and his posse of three friends (who regarded her as cool)!!  She heard them call to each other, “Hey!  Let’s chase her and whoever catches her gets to kiss her!”  Oh, it was on!

She had already taken off down the hill, so she let herself coast for awhile until she ascertained who was the closest to her.  It was Max!  NO!  Hadn’t he done enough damage at the dumb field trip?  Grabbed her butt?  He was not about to take her kissing V-card too!  She took off again until they jockeyed positions and Connor was closest.  She maneuvered onto a sidewalk that led her to a dead-end at the front of the school.  Connor ‘tagged’ her and the game ended…

They all gathered around her in a circle and he began to lean in for the kill.  She was suddenly very nervous and could tell that he was unsure too.  But the circle was anxiously watching, drooling over a live kissing booth, wishing they had a girlfriend.  He was taking longer and longer to lean over (both of them were still sitting on the bikes) and she got more and more nervous until she suddenly turned her head to the side, opting for a cheek kiss instead.  With that, she gave him his out.  With a cry of, “She’s a prude!” the boys took off and she remained, still a kissing virgin.  The only thing left to do was to go home and write about it:

June 1st, 1992

Connor really does love me!  I did the stupidest thing after the bicycle rodeo today.  Connor was going to kiss me and I backed away.  I’ll probably not get that chance again for awhile. 

  I love you                     I love you                  I love you                          I love you

I’m sorry Connor!        I want you to kiss me!             Please!

Thought you had had enough foreplay?  Hey!  This is still fourth grade.  Keep your pants on!  What kind of girl did you think I was anyway?

She, Her and I: Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

The Coatroom

But back to the peachy keen relationship. It must have been true love because somehow, I don’t remember the apology or explanation of how his friend sat next to me and they decided together that my butt should be grabbed…I took him back. Maybe a Jolly Rancher?

The biggest milestone of the hottest couple in 4th grade occurred, of course, in the coatroom away from prying eyes. Now you may be thinking, this is going to be racy. From what I’ve read so far this girl flirts with boys, is down with OPP, gets her butt grabbed almost on a daily basis and now is dangling a story about the coatroom. Please don’t forget, this is a teacher’s pet you are reading about.

And actually before THE coatroom story, let me insert another highlight of fourth grade. I figure if I can remember it happening, it is a highlight. The setting: my fourth grade classroom, the date is inconsequential, but the time was morning, just before the tardy bell rang. Most of us were in our seats, checking in our lunch count, getting ready for the day to start when in walks Ken from the coatroom. Ken was part of the gifted program with me and was relatively quiet. He blended in well and was kind of part of the background until that day. This day changed everything and I remember it, 18 years later. Imagine that quiet, intelligent, somewhat shy boy that we all had in at least one of our classes growing up. Then, imagine that boy walking determinately out the coatroom with a look of fierce pride on his face and a Ren & Stimpy T-shirt on that read, “Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy.” That one t-shirt, a simple shirt with a Nickelodeon cartoon on it, changed his image in everyone’s mind that day. Way to put yourself on the map, Ken!

But as I promised, here is the coatroom story. I could lie and say this was how he made up for the field trip fiasco, and it is totally possible that this could be right, but I doubt it.

Naturally, it took place in the morning. She arrived promptly at school, hung up her spring jacket, and walked to her desk where she took out her necessary school supplies and waited for further instructions. Instead of the directions coming from her beloved teacher, they were from a friend, not the butt grabbing friend, but a different friend who simply informed her, “Connor is waiting for you in the coatroom.”

Well, here is where the teacher’s pet in her faltered. The instructions given as far back as kindergarten clearly state that you are not to hang out in the coatroom, simply hang up what you need to hang up then come in to class. As the bell was about to ring, she was doubly nervous that she would be counted tardy not being in my seat when the school day started. She was clearly ready for the factories, already having succumbed to the Pavlovian reaction of salivating at the ring of the school bell, ready for work production.

But the flirtatious vixen took over.

She stood up, pushed her chair back defiantly, and walked, head held high, to the coatroom. That’s when her confidence wavered. It was easy to pretend in front of her friends in class (who she thought all had a crush on him too) but she was nervous. What was she about to walk in to? But in she walked, and he was standing there in front of his coat hook, with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles book bag hanging on it. He looked up as she walked over to him, gave her a 1 second hug, then walked out of the coat room. She was in heaven!

March 19th, 1992


For a little while there was a rumor going around that Connor kissed me in the coatroom. I personally thought it was funny! You know what they say, first hugs then kisses! All the girls were jealous of course.* Oh, and another story, my best friend, Samantha, told me that Connor said “the only girls I want to be around are Erin, Vanessa and Samantha.” Well, Erin has been going around saying, “he said my name first. That means he likes me best!” Ever heard 1st is the worst, 2nd is the best, Erin?
I love Connor!

*There was never proof that all the girls were in fact jealous. This was just an opinion formed by a self-important, stuck-up, teacher’s pet.  AND, I've never heard the saying, "first hugs, then kisses."  Again, I don't know who I thought I was fooling...myself?

Also, coming from a teacher's perspective, let me tell you how glad I am that coatrooms are no longer part of new-age classrooms!  A whole, hidden room, small spaces...not with how kids are these days!  Keep them in sight at all times, please! 

She, Her and I: Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Her Hot Butt

Fourth grade also brought field trips.  The one is question was not necessarily a highlight, but this field trip stands out for certain reasons.  She and the boy had been going out for a solid two months.  This was long term by elementary standards where friends changed weekly along with the popularity of New Kids on the Block, Boyz II Men, and Naughty by Nature, all very appropriate music for 10 year-olds.  I was down with OPP.

The field trip itself wasn’t memorable.  I can’t remember where we went, what we went to see, or even if April is the time of the year we went.  Some kind of play or ballet?  Something on a stage with the lights lowered.  What I do remember is being excited to go on a field trip, strategically putting myself next to him so that we would be sitting next to each other.  All went well until right before we sat down and some scuffling ensued and after I sat down, turned to my left and there was NOT my boyfriend, but one of his friends.  Sweet.  I angrily crossed my LEFT leg over my right and jangled my ankle around.  But then, being the little teacher’s pet that I was, made sure I was focused on whatever the boring field trip was about.  I re-crossed my legs, as my foot was falling asleep anyway, and to draw attention to the fact that I was annoyed at my seat partner to the left for whispering to my boyfriend and clearly not paying attention like we were supposed to.  After my foot fell asleep again (how long was this trip?) I re-crossed my legs again, back to the left over right, not realizing that this was what they had been waiting for.  That simple movement of me, lifting my left leg over my right, apparently was my left buttock’s invitation for a ten year old hand to grab it!  WHAT?!  I felt betrayed, like my boyfriend had just pimped me out!  I hadn’t even hugged him, held hands with him, and his dumb friend just grabbed my butt in the middle of a boring field trip!  I can still see it now, in slow motion, me, crossing my leg, lifting the cheek ever so slightly off the red scratchy seat cushion and the Psycho bathroom scene music "DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN" as a little juvenile hand reaches out, fingers stretched, and pinches my butt cheek.  Argh… 

That is how I remember it.  Here is how I wrote it when it happened:  Yes, the actual diary of a ten-year old, somehow saved in an attic box somewhere.  *Names have been changed to protect the identity of adolescent youth.*

January 11, 1992

I hate Connor!  I hate Max!  I’ll tell you why.  Today my class and me went on a field trip.  Connor and Max pushed until Connor sat next to me.  In the middle of the play, Connor traded places with Max and Max pinched my butt!  What is it with my butt?  On the 9^th, Glen got it again!  That was the third time this year.  Before we went on the field trip Erin came over and said that Connor said he had a crush on me.  I don’t believe it.  If he would be so mean to me to let Max do that!  I don’t believe he likes me.  I’m never going out with someone until sixth grade.  All boys are not mature.  I’m mature.  I’m ten years old.  My doctor was right, girls do mature before boys. 

Apparently I didn't get over this quickly.  Two days later I added this gem:

January 13^th, 1992

Half the boys in my class would love to go out with me.  I learned the hard way that all boys are scum.  Today in choir, Glen got my butt again.  4 times this school year!      

What a little prissy I was, pretty full of myself and already ready for the drama of high school.  I’m speechless and this was my diary.  All I can say, is looking back, I was headed for trouble, and in retrospect, glad that my “big” drama came early and woke me up before it was too late.  Oh, and January, not April…so I guess we hadn’t even started ‘dating’ yet.  But then again, I was going to wait until sixth grade, when boys were mature enough for my liking...      

Her hot butt had been called into question before.  Word must have gotten around? Starting in third grade she had picked up the unwanted attention of a different boy, Glen.  Always getting in trouble, definitely not a teacher’s pet, but a teacher’s burden, he gravitated toward her.  One time he followed her home from school, but that was all it took.  She sensed him walking behind her, but refused to run.  How dare he!  Along with being a teacher’s pet, she was also daddy and  mommy’s little girl and was not disappointed upon arriving home.  Having the dad that was the strong silent type that her girlfriends were afraid of when they came over was put to good use when dealing with unwanted affection.  As soon as she got into her house, she ran down to the basement and hid under the very pool table that helped spawn the Screwballs’ logo.  Noticing the strange behavior (she usually only hid under the pool table when the storm sirens went off) her dad poked his head out the front door and saw a grungy, Neanderthal young boy all but sniffing his way after his daughter’s path to the front door.  All it took was one unfriendly, “Hey, can I help you with something?” that caused him to turn tail and run up the street and out of sight.  Unfortunately, her dad couldn’t come to school with her to keep his little perv hands off her there!

She, Her and I: Chapter 2

 Chapter 2:

4th Grade

Best friend in other classroom.  In class with the twin she hadn’t been with yet.  Most gifted students in this class, cluster grouping because they went to a different school for half a day once a week to be “served.”  Smiley, friendly teacher.  Seemed promising… 

Highlights of fourth grade include the formation of their cool club “The Screwballs” based loosely off her older sister’s club.  This worked well until her mom decided that it seemed like more of a clique and if they were a club they needed to “do” things and not just hang out.  Ehhh.  No, we just wanted to be a clique after all.  It was amusing to design a sweet logo for it though:  a pool ball (assigned with a number) with a screw through it, showing at the top and bottom of the pool ball.  Yeah. 

Then there was the boy.  There’s always that one boy who just makes school.  And yes, I was into the boy as early as fourth grade.  Truth be told, in first grade I had my first love note passed to me on a snowflake we were cutting in class (I was so embarrassed I ripped it into shreds).  Also in first grade, a different boy in my class brought me a bouquet of flowers on the last day.  Clearly, I wasn’t ready as I shoved them into my book bag and ran home, embarrassed again.  In third grade I declared my love to the first boy, the snowflake love note, but like an early booty call, we never went public.  Or private- we were third graders!  It was secret notes and quick glances, but never anything real.  I wasn’t ready until fourth grade.

The boy happened to be a hot commodity.  All her friends liked him too.  She was lucky enough to be in his class.  In January, they got placed at the same four-desk arrangement.  He was opposite her, but she never kicked Connor in the shins.  Occasionally, she would accidentally brush his foot.  Can you really get tingles from a boy as early as ten?  They, of course, started off teasing, making fun of each other, like ten year-olds! 

Things didn’t progress until February.  One of the other Screwball’s moms caught on to the whole “club” idea too and made us come over for a meeting.  I think we had to do a craft that day.  Anyway, walking over (which let me walk east from school, towards his house and not west where almost none of my friends lived) us Screwballs were walking right behind him.  We all met in a parking lot at the top of my friend’s street and talked for a few minutes.  This is where my first bout of jealousy reared its ugly head.  He had Jolly Ranchers.  A boy with candy!  Definitely a keeper.  He started teasing my best friend, ‘do you want one?  I have a grape one, do you want it?’ And of course she did, who doesn’t want a Jolly Rancher?  But all I saw was him flirting with her.  Why not me?  He went on to give me the Jolly rancher and not her, but I was still mad he didn’t tease me with it.  He very nicely asked me if I wanted it, gave it to me and probably stuck his tongue out at her.  This was the beginning of a love triangle we will get into later…

Within the next week, at recess (yes, February in Cleveland and we still went out to play every day!) the boy and one of his friends found me on the playground and separated me from the herd.  In true young love, I stood staring at the two of them while his friend asked me if I wanted to go out with Connor.  I said ‘yes’ and then we all walked away.  I officially had a boyfriend.

One of the Screwballs played on a recreation basketball team so they all went to watch.  And, oh wow!  Boys, outside of school!  Who knew they existed there too!  One group of girls flirting with the cool group of boys.  Again, ELEMENTARY SCHOOL BOYS.  Not only was she advanced in height, but in hormones!  Ha.  That day she received a small chocolate heart from Connor.  Very nice.   

The parents never seemed to catch on.  This was true love.  They talked on the phone, and sat by each other in their assigned seats.  What else could you ask for?  But the constant question was, “What do you mean you’re going out?  Where do you go?”  Where indeed, where would two ten-year-olds go?

In the beginning...She, Her and I

She, Her and I is a collection of memories, diary entries and present day comments/reflections on a young girl growing up.  The title reflects the author's remembrance as an outsider, from a written account or as a personal experience.  The form is not yet final, and revisions will be taking place throughout.  However, I wanted to share the writing in the hopes that you will enjoy it, that it will spark your own memories and help you reflect on who you used to be, but more importantly, how you got there.  I will be posting one 'chapter' at a time.  Please feel free to leave appropriate comments and enjoy...

Chapter One:

BEEP!  BEEP!  BEEP!  BEEP!

What an awful way to wake up in the morning.  There’s nothing like being snuggled deep under covers, perfectly relaxed and then a god-awful screech rips you from your slumber. 

It’s amazing that the alarm clock is what woke her anyway, being the youngest of three girls.  Middle and high school start times were a lot earlier than elementary, and of course it was the early 90s so big hair hadn’t completely run its course yet.  Ahh… waking up to hair spray sizzling on a curling iron would have been nicer, but back to the BEEP!  BEEP!  BEEP!  It would be years until wonderful cell phones were invented with soothing melodies to wake her up, instead of the dreaded alarm clock. 

She tumbled out of bed, checked to make sure the coast was clear and stumbled across the hall to the bathroom.  The bathroom to herself: a minor victory!  Sisters showered, dressed, primped and heading off to school, Dad at work, Mom downstairs.  Nothing left to do now but eat breakfast while watching Woody Woodpecker and get ready for school.

Oh, the first day of school.  This past year the school had stopped listing next year’s teacher on the report card so you pretty much had to wait until summer was over and school started to find out what teacher you were going to have and who was going to be in your class.  The last day of school used to entail calling your friend with your report card in hand, next year’s teacher listed at the top, asking them what class they were going to be in.  On the last day of school she had still called one of her friends, but without being able to ask what class she would be in, asked what her grades had been instead.  Her friend responded that her mom told her that her grades were nobody’s business but her own.  Whoops.  Okay, wanna ride bikes?      

There weren’t many kids in the neighborhood where she grew up.  Sure, she had friends that lived within a five block radius of the school, but none next-door or even on the same street.  She was the youngest of her family by four and five years, and had missed out on the kids on the street generation.  Her sisters had enjoyed the attention of boys on the street, and she got to be the baby in all the “house” games they played.  Oh, and the butt of jokes, like the one time she butted into their conversation on the driveway and got her skirt flipped up.  That pair of red and white checked underwear she had been wearing was forever after dubbed “the unlucky underwear.”  Why didn’t she just throw them out?

But now school was back in session.  This meant being popular, trendy (due to her older sisters’ fashion sense) and above all, a teacher’s pet.  Oh, she would deny it, but she definitely loved and identified with her teachers.  Always knowing answers, having her homework completed, and being helpful made her a teacher favorite.  She absolutely used this to her advantage as well.  While most of the time she was a model student, other times, her youngest child instincts kicked in, and often she kicked boys in the shin.  The best response when being told on once; “Vanessa wouldn’t do that.”  The look on that boy’s face was priceless.  She knew she held all the cards, but didn’t overuse her power.  She was never aiming to be teacher’s pet, but it always just sort of happened.  Who would be her teacher this year?

It was easy to be labeled as teacher’s pet when following in the footsteps of two older sisters, also model students.  And with a long, memorable last name, it was hard to even start with a clean slate.  At least her sisters were easily likable; it would have been hard to dig out of a hole instead of riding high above ‘those kids.’

Get dressed, the purple and black polka dot hand-me-down shirt and skirt combo.  Barely handed down.  She was growing fast; little did she know that at 10 years old she was only a few inches from her grown-up height.  Enjoy being tallest in the class now, honey!  Soon you’ll be among the shortest!  Paired with purple socks, folded over, and feet pushed into black pointy toed pumps.  Looking hot!  Black, dangly earrings, bangs three inches above her forehead.  Nice.  Bring on 4^th grade.