Tuesday, January 18, 2011


Brian Shilling sent in a tremendous story:

I had a Marge Limon. Believe it or not, her name was Ms. Payne. I had the misfortune to have her in kindergarten and then in second grade. In second grade, she told me in front of the whole class that I would never amount to anything. Because I was a smart tyke, I finished my work early, and got into trouble. She pulled me to the front of the class room, desk and all, put a "study carrel" (a cardboard box, the size of my desk) on my desktop, and made me work inside of it. This did nothing to stem more boredom, so, for days, I poked holes in the box with my pencils. This angered my teacher, who sent a bill home for the study carrel. This is when my parents found out that I had been working in a box for a few weeks, and were being asked to pay a significant price for it.

The next day was the day I heard my dad use the F word to the principal's face. I remember it being pretty awesome.

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