My Indian Education*

Nursery:

I remember the girl who brought kittens for show-and-tell. I thought she didn't deserve them and I believed I did. I was extremely jealous. I’m more of a dog person now anyway. I remember the boy with the lisp. He had a lisp that would make him spit everywhere. “ Lindthhhh, do you want to go play in the Thhhppppand pit?”

“Uh-uh.”

 I remember the teacher teaching us our shapes.

“Is this a green square?”

To which our little nursery bodies would inhale and all scream “NOOOOOOOOO!”

“What color is it?”

“BBBBLLLLUUUUUUUEEEEE!”

“Is this a triangle?”

I wondered why we were all screaming, but inhaled deeply and screamed anyway.

Kindergarten:

I was very excited to put on the plaid jumper and collared shirt. I remember going to half-day and watching “Dragon Tales” with a sippycup of chocolate milk and a bag of cereal before school. I came home happy and worn out. School was tiring back then. I learned a lot. I made my first best friend whose name was Morgan, and whose last name I don’t remember, and don’t remember if I ever knew.

First Grade:

I became friends with Rosie.

“Do you want to play with me?”

“Yes.”

We found out we lived just a few blocks away from each other, and have been friends ever since then.

 I also saw my friend Maddy hug a boy. In disbelief I asked; “Do you like him?”

“No, he’s just my friend.”

“Oh.” I didn’t get it.

Phillip told me I was going the “wrong way” on the monkey bars. From then on he was on my bad side. There is a wrong way to talk to me about monkey bars.

Second grade:

 I loved math and doing problems on the board. I sat next to a boy who cheated off me and ate chapstick. I didn’t mind.

 Because Austin Orr and I were desk buddies, he used to grade my math packets. He always put smiley faces next to the ones I got correct. I always wished he’d do just one big smiley face rather than a bunch of tiny ones. And forget the nose.

Third Grade:

Moldable erasers and mechanical pencils were all the rage. Girls would trade and borrow all through class, and sometimes got them confiscated. I received moldable erasers from my friend Rosie for my birthday the summer after that school year.

I had a substitute teacher for most of the year and even though I recognize her face when I see her around campus, I cannot remember her name.  And I feel bad.

Fourth grade:

I felt so lucky to have Mr. Johnson as a teacher. He sang songs, told jokes and loved math. Aspen had hiccups, and Mckenzie kind of sounds like my name Lindsay.  I ate a lot of sugar cubes as I used them to construct a medieval castle, complete with a horse in a horse stable.

Fifth grade:

Our assembly was about the different organs in the body. I was the stomach. I was in a group with Sadie \, Whitney , and Logan. When we practiced our parts in front of the class my group got an en core. Up to that moment I had never been so proud.  We put the lines to the tune of Some Say Love  and made up fake sign language so we could perform it Napoleon Dynamite style.

“Your stomach , it is a worker.

It’s strong walls work all day

To blend the gastric juice and food

And send it on its way.”

I still remember the signs that went with it.

Kat Beasley and I sat in the back of the room and laughed. Rosie got jealous. Kat and I asked our Latin teacher if he wore a wig. He claimed he didn’t. I became friends with Ria. She’s cool. She’s a triplet.

Sixth grade:

I was separated from my friends and put in Ms. Kuehn’s class. I met Mikaela, and because she was a gymnast like I was, I spent all of lunch with her doing handstands.  Blake was a new kid who said “yes ma’am”.  And Josh was a new kid who said “Alta is for skiers.”  I used to charge Isabelle a quarter every time she swore. She still owes me at least two dollars.

Seventh grade:

With the help of my fellow surgeon Aspen, we saved the lives of many trees around campus. I became so curious about migraines that I eventually got one during a science test. I failed it. I had learned all I wanted to about them.

   I unknowingly wrote a deep poem in Dr. Taylors English class.  I don’t think I knew what it meant back then.

The fear never lessens

When close enough to touch

He will hobble away peering back

 With a scowl

At first you had whimpered

 And hidden

And he had lain dozing

 In the dark

You have seen him squatting

To stare at you

With a strange yearning look.

Eight grade:

I discussed defibrillators with Aspen and Josh. I read the Odyssey and was so proud. I discussed the use of the word ‘jounce’ in the novel A Separate Peace for an eternity. I played soccer. I had fun, while my friend Rosie lost her dad and became angry. I learned to soak up her extra emotions like a sponge.

Ninth grade:

I came back to school to find that I now had to look up at everyone. They had grown.

I was still a sponge but I couldn't hold anymore. This year was probably the worst to date.

Tenth grade:

Rosie left Waterford and things were better for both parties.

I was afraid at the beginning of the year when I read “Ken Shaw” on my schedule. I heard that he sprayed his students with stinky chemicals and sent them into enemy teacher classrooms. His class ended up being one of my favorites. I especially liked the labs. Many of my pens are melted a little on the end from the time we spent using the Bunsen Burners.

Eleventh grade:

My AP Physics class changed my life. The most difficult class I had to date, it was also the most interesting. During lunch, I discussed time machines and “countercurrent exchange” with Aspen. I even gave her a copy of A Brief History of Time so we could talk about it.  I would drive home and think; I could calculate this force and that force and this is kinetic friction multiplied by the constant k… Also, just think of all the forces at work on a treadmill.

Senior year:

I was still settling in when there were only three weeks left.  Because things often become clearer when looking back I can’t accurately summarize this time.  I have realized I will miss without exception every one of my peers. I feel, whether consciously or not, over the years, I have learned from them. Waterford has given me more than I can even say.  I will not cry at graduation. I will not cry at graduation. I will not….


*Indian Education is the title of a short story by Sherman Alexie. Check it out.