the story: part one

It goes like this. We were doing the thing my family most loves–sitting around laughing as hard as we could about old memories. And it occured to be I’ve never really shared the full story of my testimony on my blog. So I thought I would. And so I decided to split it into parts. And the first one? My school days.

This January, I’ll have homeschooled for seven years. I wouldn’t have it any other way if I could go back. But I treasure my almost two years in public school. Those were some of my best years of memories, for sure.

I remember the first day so well, but at the same time it’s seems so far way it’s like a dream. I remember the teacher telling me she liked my shoes. I remember seeing my name on the board. I remember coloring with purple crayons. It’s funny the things I remember. It’s funny the things that mattered back then.

I remember the kid I played with at recess, who became my first friend there, the same one who convinced me he was turning green on saint patrick day. There was the girl who cried everyday at lunch. And the other girl who became my best friend. Then, there was the kid from my preschool class who threw up. There was that one boy, who was the only kid older than me in the class and the other one who lost his two front teeth and they never grew back. I remember the class trouble makers–both of them.

I remember the embarrassing stories that still make us laugh hard. Like the time I was poked in the eye and had to go the nurse office. Or the time that…well…I’ll spare that one. Or the time…well again let’s just skip those.

I remember recess. We’d pretend to be all sorts of things. We’d sing as we’d swing. I remember the days when we would close our eyes and think maybe we’d be somewhere else when we opened them. I remember when we believed in wishes, and fairy tales, and crazy ideas. There was my best friend in Kindergarden who helped me create the wildest dreams. And I said I wanted to be a girl who raised money by singing in the side of the street and she said that’s the best idea ever.

Then I started first grade. I lost friends and gained them. And kept just one or two. Things changed, like I began to want to be a writer someday instead of the other random dreams we’d make up. We’d sit in a bathtub filled with pillows in our classroom and listen to stories. We’d learn harder things. I met new people, like the one who took the chunk out of the bathroom wall somehow. Then, our class got lice. So I had to take my books to class everyday in a plastic bag, which busted one day.

I remember how I was worried all the time. So I was the kid who had “special times” with the school guidance teacher every thursday. She was the nicest person in the world.  We read books. We talked about life. And it never once occurred to me that I was there because I had worry problems.

Then, we started talking about homeschooling. And I that started to the beginning of change…

And those were the craziest days of my life. I wonder if when we were at recess and closed our eyes and hoped maybe we would be somewhere else, if I ever wondered where I would be in my freshman year of highschool. If I did, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t here. But some stories have happier endings than we ever dreamed at the beginning.

It’s the beginning of my story. Maybe not the best part, but it’s so beautiful to me. Because it’s the stories that would lead up to the best part of my life yet.

to be continued….



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