Well not every story is going to be about V--. First of all, she was never a fundamental part of my life, and secondly, she does not deserve the privilege of being listed several times in this long tale. I will refer to her a few times, but you can pretty much tell from the previous story what she was all about.

So first grade started that fall and my dad enrolled my sister and me in a public school down the street. He took us a week before so we could meet our teachers. I instantly fell in love with mine.

She was a wonderful young woman, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. She must have graduated not too long before because she told my father that this was her first year teaching. She had the friendliest smile and blond hair. The classroom was decorated in every color imaginable and she was busy putting name tags on all of the little desks. She showed me around the classroom and let me know that she was excited to have me in her class. I couldn't wait to go to school!

School started a week later and I still remember what I wore that day. This is 1991 so be careful before you start to laugh. I had on a knee length denim dress that fitted my little body but had a denim ruffle around the hip and puffy short sleeves. It was splashed with neon colors and was paired with a pair of white socks and pink Keds. My hair was in one of those lovely early nineties side-ponytails with a huge pink bow. My hair was curled which completed the look and made me catalogue ready for the little girls department.

I remember sitting down next to a boy who I thought was way cuter than my Ken doll. He was shorter than me because at this time I was one of the tallest kids in my grade, a trait that didn't disappear until almost high school.

We went outside to play during P.E. class that day, during which, I had to go to the restroom. I ran back into the school to go do my thing and returned momentarily. When I came back, I noticed that all of my classmates were gone. I politely asked another kid on the playground if he knew where Mrs. Martin's class went. The kid pointed to the gym and told me that everyone had gone back inside. Annoyed, I had to walk all the way back by myself to track down my classroom. I think the moment of embarrassment I felt pretty much set me up to not like school anymore.

Now, I was considered way ahead of my class when it came to smarts. I surpassed all of my classmates in reading and writing and was already through all of my readers by Christmas. My teacher had to give me second grade work the rest of the year so I wouldn't get bored. But despite the fact that I never got in trouble, made flawless grades on my report card, and received all kinds of praise from teachers and other students, I never wanted to go to school.

I still can't to this day figure out why I didn't want to be there. I had tons of friends that always asked me over after school, but the thought of being at school suddenly scared me. It's like my self confidence was flushed down the drain.

I would fake being sick to get out of going, and when that didn't work I would get "sick" at school so I could go home. My dad was so frustrated with me as was my teacher because she could not figure out what was wrong. She called him into conference one day and asked if she could put me in second grade because maybe I would be more comfortable. My brilliant father refused because he wanted me to stay with my friends that were my same age. You can tell he was looking out for my education right??

One day, my dad had called the school and told him that he was running late from work and would be about a half hour late picking me up. The office notified my teacher who told me not to worry because she had a special treat for me.

After school let out and everyone else left for our designated pickup spot, Mrs. Martin told me we were going to get a treat. We walked down the hall, through a brown door, and into a room that every student fantasizes about: The Teacher's Lounge. In there, she bought a Diet Coke and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. We took them back into the classroom and we ate on that and talked until finally my dad walked in to collect me.

Ever since that day, I never had a problem with school. I think the fact that I got to do something special with my teacher bumped up my confidence and made me feel special. Sadly, it was a trend that started where I always needed that extra push of confidence for me to know that everything was ok.