Pondering the daisical
This little piggy goes to market


I need to call myself to attention!  I can't believe how distracted I've become with my knitting.


I think mostly of my elementary teachers when I hear, "Attention!"  Mrs. Pinch (or was it Pynch) in second grade.  I always thought it was so gross when she'd bang her fist against the blackboard for emphasis -- over and over again -- and her upper arm fat would get to jigglin' somethin' awful.  Yeah, I wish I had a different memory of her, too.  Second grade was hard -- new school, and no school friends that I recall.  And be careful about what you're calling gross because that upper arm flab is now a problem of yours truly (but at least I know better than to go 'round banging my fist on things).

I think of Mrs. Gaines (we used to call her Mrs. Gainesburger -- it was a brand of dog food in the day).  She didn't like me.  Third grade was hard -- new school, though our neighborhood was "young" and I was making some friends.  Somehow, by whatever stratetic method Mrs. Gainesburger employed, I was frequently chosen to be room monitor.  Let's just say that it became very clear, in third grade, that monitoring would not be a good career path.  I was giggly and boy crazy and they (the boys) all knew it; it was never long before they'd start clowning around and I'd start giggling, even though I was supposed to be monitoring and -- why wouldn't she just throw my name back in the pot and pick another one?

I don't think of Mrs. Kelly, my first grade teacher, or Mrs. Worcestershire (not her real name), my fourth grade teacher.  They were my favorites and I do believe that I was theirs.  I think it's terrible that I can't remember Mrs. W's name, being one of my favorites and all.

And and a little of Mrs. Schmidlin (or was it Schmidke or Schmidlkofer or just plain Schmidt -- like Shirley) (she of the Friday afternoon music appreciation interludes avec the Boston Pops).  She was supposed to be my sixth grade teacher, too, but I was able to convince my mother otherwise and she made a successful lobby for change.  It was a decision that we'd later both regret.  My mother because my best friend in the new and improved sixth grade class was the daughter of a guy who owned a local strip club and she didn't like that -- in fact, I think I was forbidden from hanging around with her (which I totally ignored, of course).  I think I'd have stretched my wings some in sixth grade, anyway, but maybe not so far.  I had to do a lot of writing-as-punishment work in sixth grade.  Once, I was supposed to write a however-many-thousand-word essay on why I wasn't supposed to do whatever and I ran out of things to say, so finished up by writing, "I will not do whatever it was" however many times necessary to reach the required word count.  It didn't fly and I had to find the words.  Sixth grade was great and I liked Mr. M. (it makes Schmidlkofer look easy), but I think the original plan was probably a good one.

I requested a teacher only once for one of my kids and I ended up regretting that, too.

Did I say I've been distracted with my knitting?  How about my life?  Knitting, blogging, cooking, cleaning, organizing, reading -- oh, look, gardening.

I finished the Plymouth Yarns Fantasy Naturale Market Bag (free pattern) and I'm very happy with it!  It was too dark last night and not enough time this morning for pictures, so hopefully tomorrow.  I worked a bit more on the EZ Baby Surprise Jacket and that will continue tonight, since I'll be knitting out, and there's only about five minutes of work left on Saartje's Bootees (free pdf)...  Maybe I'll feel more focused when these distractions are finished!



I hear you on that upper arm fat. ugh.


Oh Vicki...you have a way of taking one back, way back. Mrs. Okland (not sure if that's exactly right) was my third grade teacher and I loved her. 4th grade, Mrs. Biggert (not sure of spelling) was just as mean as her name sounds. She slapped me on the shoulder hard for turning around to look at something (who knows what). Anyway, I think I'd rather live in the present than remember bad schools days.
Summer heat has a way of making the mind wander.


Attention! Begin!! Isn't that what's next?? I love reading your blog -- sometimes we are on the same page of our lives.


The Mrs. Pinch memory is funny! It reminds me of a story my husband tells -- he taught math at an all-boy Catholic high school and the behavior there was out of control. He got so mad one day that he punched the blackboard and broke it. He says the kids were a little impressed.

I remember that my second-grade teacher had long blonde hair and drove a yellow Corvette. That was the height of cool.

Supposedly, long after I left, my third and fourth grade teachers were fired for walking down the hallways shirtless. I guess kids can get to ya.


i had a miss grossball (or something like that) in 2nd grade. she was cute and painfully young (even we knew she was young) and married the following summer to someone without an unfortunate name. i don't remember much else about her except that she made us write in a journal.


what a fab post. really enjoyed reading it.


Grade school memories do stick, don't they? I guess we are at a very impressionable age and these adults are a big part of our lives. I remember in detail all of my teachers and even a few supply teachers, in particular the one who told me I was the worst reader she had ever some across(!) and the one who was a very wispy blonde who smelled strongly of Loves Baby Soft and had fascinating stories of travelling the Amazon.

I do love when you take us back, Vicki.
My knittings been adift, too. 'Tis the season.


What a great post -- I'm having a hard time picturing you as someone who got into trouble in grade school, though. I don't think I ever had a mean teacher, although I remember several who were dumb as rocks.


I haven't been by your blog for awhile because life has been crazy, but I'm glad I came today! I had a good laugh. My 3rd grade teacher was Mrs. Maynard and she was old, near retirement...we called her Mrs. Mayonnaise! Your bag is nice. I have only seen the crocheted ones. Thanks for the link to the pattern!


OK, can you tell I'm catching up again? Internest connection woes...You once again stirred lots of memories of school daze & the one that creeps into mind is Sister Thomas Emanuella. I swear, she looked exactly like the Wicked Witch of the West sans green facepaint and she was every bit as mean! The year she broke her ankle, many a kid got whacked with her crutch. Boy would I like to go back there and....you know. Have a great weekend! Hope all your distractions are fibery!

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