I didn't like school and it was all Cathy Myers fault. Cathy lived two doors down from our first house on Hartel Street in Philadelphia. Cathy was a couple of years older than me, so she was already going to school while I spent my days playing.
For some reason Cathy got it into her head that she was a good teacher. On weekends and holidays, when she wasn't in school, she would set up a little classroom in front of her house and use me and other neighborhood kids as her students. Apparently, Cathy's' idea of a day at school centered around yelling and punishment. This is where I learned to fear school.
When I entered the first grade (there was no pre-school in those days), I screamed, cried and fought everyday. I almost had to be dragged to school every morning and who do you think volunteered to get me there, Cathy. When I finally arrived at school I would pretend to be sick so I could go home. That didn't last long since my parents got real tired of coming to get me on a regular basis. So in the end I gave in and accepted the fact that I was going to spend about half of my life or at least the next twelve years, in a place I didn't like.
Although I attended school the same as everyone else, I never really got over my fear or dislike. It didn't help that I attended Catholic school and was taught mostly by nuns. Most of them seemed to think that it was OK to yell at little children and smack them with a ruler to get their attention. I guess that's where Cathy picked it up.
I was never really good in school. By that I mean that I wasn't a straight "A" student or even a regular "B". I mostly did what was needed to get by and move me on to the next challenge (translation: test). Some years were better than others, especially if I actually liked the teacher (which meant she was good looking). I only had one nun who I considered nice, but the other students gave her such a hard time that she eventually left. A couple of the "lay" teachers were OK, especially Miss McGowan in second grade, who I had a crush on. Miss Walsh, in fifth grade ,was also easy to look at in a Morticia Adams kind of way. If I'd had either one of them for a couple of years I may have become more interested in school, if only to receive their praise and a pat on the head.
Instead, I had Miss O'Neill in the third grade which was probably the worst year of my educational career. I just could not get my lessons right. As the year went on I started getting failing grades which did not sit well with my father. He naturally punished me and threatened additional disciplinary action if I didn't improve. For some reason that only caused things to get worse. There came a point, after one particular report card, when I wasn't able to sit for a long time because of the bruises. Anyway, I eventually got out of the third grade and moved forward. I'm proud to say that, even with the problems I had, I never had to attend summer school or repeat a grade.
High school was four more years of the same, except now we had priests and brothers teaching instead of nuns. We also had Mr. White who was some kind of football legend in our high school. He liked to walk around with a piece of chalk in his hand at all times. When someone did something he considered stupid or requiring additional attention, he would put the chalk between his lips and rap (pretty hard) the student on the head with his knuckles.
Father Hensley was my religion teacher in the 12th grade. He had a nickname for everyone and mine was "chicken". I really have no idea why. It started with me falling asleep in his class and then to wake me up he yelled "wake up chicken" and there you have it. It was hard to stay awake in his class. For one thing it was right after lunch. In fact to this day I have difficulty staying focused after lunch. Second, my seat was in a spot where the afternoon sun shined directly on me, which made me very warm and therefore very sleepy. This was before central air and when they were still using iron radiators. In school the radiators line the wall under the window. Guess where I sat? Yep! Right next to the radiator. So in the winter I got the full force of the sun AND the heat of the radiator right after lunch. It was a rough year.
But I made it though the first 12 years and didn't have to study again until I joined the Air Force. By now I had learned that I actually retained things pretty well just reading them once. I also figured Air Force basic training couldn't be any worse than Catholic school and so I did pretty well.
I managed to get my bachelors degree without too much trouble. I learned a lot of study tips along the way. Most of them are simply remembering to set particular times to do things and setting up the proper surroundings. The easy things I get right away. The hard things require more effort and sometimes explanation or clarification from someone smarter than me.
You won't have to go through what I did to learn to learn. You can just go to my site at www.studytips.tellmeaboutthat.com and gather the information you need. When you are finished check out www.TellMeAboutThat.com for news, articles and products on a wide variety of subjects. Good luck with your studies.
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