Middle School Memories

While Phil was studying for his GMAT last night, I ended up sitting with him and just for fun seeing if I could answer some practice questions. Well, we began reminiscing about school days, favorite teachers, classes, yada yada, and I just happened upon this middle school memory that left me lying on my back laughing out loud for five minutes straight. Now, Phil didn't really see what was so funny, (he just sat there staring at me while I was laughing so hard) so it's okay if you don't really find this story funny either.

First, we must go back to Mrs. Lee's seventh grade math class at Alice C. Harris Intermediate School (why they couldn't make the school's name shorter than that, I'll never know). Mrs. Lee loved me. I knew I was one of her favorites and I loved her right back for that. You must understand, even in seventh grade, I took my education very seriously, which is why when I got one of my tests back with a bad score I was left feeling very distraught. Feeling my face get warm, I told myself to hold it together and that everything would be okay. I would just stay after class, talk to Mrs. Lee and get things figured out. Well, "after class" finally came and she came over to my desk to see what I needed. As I began asking, "Mrs. Lee, I was just wondering why I got this score on my test?" I felt that all too familiar knot in my throat. As she started to kindly explain the mistakes I had made, the tears began flowing freely. Feeling rather embarrassed, I knew I needed to pull myself together fast. Mrs. Lee was also concerned and said "Oh don't cry. Here, let me grab you a tissue". However, during her comforting words I had already sprung to action. I reached into my backpack and pulled out my Franklin day planner where I knew I had a singular Kleenex tissue from one of those pocket packs neatly tucked away for emergencies such as this. Mrs. Lee smiled (I'm guessing fighting the urge to laugh) and said, "Oh look, you already got one. You're so prepared."

Oh, I'm still laughing. What seventh grader not only carries around a Franklin Covey day planner (my mom gave me her old one. Thanks mom!) let alone puts a singular, emergency tissue in the credit card compartment? Me. That's who. I guess a 12-yr-old needs to fill those wallet compartments with something.