The Problems of a Troubled Schoolgirl

First Grade
The first day of school I went up to my teacher and screamed, “My name is Tiny, and I’m the best thing that ever happened to you!” Yeah that’s right. I’m the coolest first grader you know. Why? Well I’m the class troublemaker. Causing chaos wherever I go. For some odd reason a six year old badass is fantastic friend material. Not that I’m complaining, everyone should feel popular and loved at least once in their life, even if it is ephemeral.

Second Grade
On top of the world now, no longer the bottom of the food chain. Poor first graders - or as I called them “my bitches” - I’m not going to hamper now! Yep, moving up a grade level did not mature me at all. Ms. Thompson is already sick of my behavior, she calls me abrasive, and whatever that means. “Alright class, we have a new student, Becca Stewarts. Now to make her feel welcomed we are going to play a little game.” Ms. Thompson wanted us to each take a sharpie and write our first and last names on a nametag. Mine read Tine Pistachio. “Oh my God,” Jerry Townsend said, “Tiny’s last name is Pistachio! That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard!” Oh no, this will not do. His giggles then turned to tears as he received a punch in the gut by Becca and a green sharpie up the nose by me. Becca and I became best friends that day.


Third Grade
My classmates all huddled around me on the school blacktop, oblivious to the fun toys around them. “Are you seriously gonna do it?” “What if you get caught?” Becca tired of the surrounding voices screams, “Shut Up!” My plan will work I know it will. The school bell rings, signaling the end of recess. We all make our way back to the classroom, and before I can even sit at my desk, Mr. W clears his throat. “Tine, please come to my desk,” my teacher states flatly. The class is filled with “ooohs.” I walk up with a grin on my face. Mr. W is not happy not happy at all. His face is as red as a tomato. “Why are my desk cabinets sealed shut?” I don’t know Mr. W they are not my cabinets. In the end, I was to blame and got suspended. On the drive home my dad asked me, “What do you have to say for yourself?” I answered, “They shouldn’t have suspended me. Mr. W even know who did it, he just always blames me.” My dad looked at me surprised, “So you didn’t do it?” Oh no, I did it. He just didn’t have any proof.

Fourth Grade
Are substitute teacher – whatever her name is – hands back our tests in a blithe manner. Everyone whines at the grades they got, but when I get mine everyone surrounds me. “Tiny got 100%!” someone yelled. “Wow, Tiny you’re such a nerd.” Oh no, this will not do. Ten minutes later, I’m in the principal’s office for cheating. “Ms. Tine, why are you cheating?” Mr. Rat Man harangues. Oh silly Rat Face, I did not cheat, I am popular, and populars are not smart. After me and Pointy Nose cleared everything up he said, “You know Ms. Tine, you have a lot of potential, I have faith in you.” Sure.


Fifth Grade
Becca and I start hanging out with middle schoolers. Silly middles schoolers, don’t give little kids pot. Becca and I abstain from school. Yeah. That pretty much sums up the year.

Sixth Grade
Washington Elementary School Promotion is upon us. All the sixth graders head to the gym to receive their accolades. I ditch the ceremony to go hang out with my middle school friends. The next day, at the mall, I see Mr. Rat Man, with his pointy nose. He comes up to me and says with disenchantment, “I guess I was wrong about you Ms. Tine, you’re just as hopeless as everybody says you are. Oh no, this will not do.

20 Years Later
I welcome in my first grade class. A little, short girl with two blonde braids walks up to me and says, “My name is Amy, and I’m the best thing that ever happened to you!” All I could do was smile.