Fourth grade started off as a shit year. All of my friends were assigned to Ms Fitch’s class and I was stuck in Mrs. Kohler’s class with a bunch of bums. Ms Fitch was “cool”: she was young and her dad was the coach for the Nets which at a young age I knew was something I should’ve been really impressed by. And so of course I was. Mrs. Kohler on the other hand was older with long salt and pepper hair and 2 different color eyes.
While I was upset I wasn’t in her class, the truth is that I didn’t even like Ms Fitch; she was super mean. I had 1 class with her every day during which she picked on people. In fact, it was in her class that I discovered a complex that I’ve carried with me for years.
She made me the example for bad handwriting. And if you remember back to 4th grade, it was considered very un-cool to not have good handwriting…as a girl anyway.
My friends were blasting off some sweet cursive, adding hearts to “i’s” and making those type-set “a’s” and my handwriting was barely legible let alone totally un-creative. [click to continue…]