...or suburb...
Yes, in some cases you might be right, RPD. However, a 'suburb' might not be a "SUBURB" if you catch my drift.
My dad got tired of the inner city of Milwaukee, and truth be told, I never cared that much for the 55th Street School in ravaged city 'everything.' When my family moved to Menomonee Falls (and we were the only house in that entire subdivision--and far from the highway) I didn't sleep as deeply as I thought I would. After all, have you ever tried to sleep when you were used to shootings, police sirens and false fire whistles? Fortunately it was only a short walk and a well defined right turn to get off the "circle courts" and then to find that 'marker' telling us little kids where the bus stopped.
I wasn't on a well planned, cement rich city street! I was on not only those circle courts, but also unmarked signs on every new gravel suburban road! When you've seen country gravel, trust me, it's all the same!
I made it to a new locally built 5th grade class, where my teacher taught better in her family's Turkish. It was 1960, and I still remember that issue of "My Weekly Reader." It was a picture of Dick Nixon and JFK semi-bracing for the picture which read, "They Fight Hard But Are Friends." Yeah, sure, lie to little kids, will you...
I thought I had settled in, but that wasn't going to happen. In a very somber tone, my teacher told us that a "very important test" was going to be handed out, and we should do our best. Yeah, right. A few hours after the test my name and that of a little girl were called to the hall outside. We were to be moved--far away from every kid, washroom and hallway I had ever seen. The little girl and I held onto each other tightly! We had been sent to "Audio and Gifted." Because of all the cheap films I had seen of the destroyed Germany, I thought I was going there! I just assumed they were going to mark us with a big, black stamp, like they did to my Uncle Jack in prison. As I entered that mystery room, 28 other kids sang a welcome song to us. Clearly, we were to be executed...
So, Rice Paddy Daddy, as you can now figure, the oddities I bring to this forum are just old Kid Prison attributes used to deflect the sting of the unwanted by the wanted. My fifth grade dragged onto eighth grade, and no adult ever mentioned a word. However, the morning of my freshman year in high school I was greeted by a teacher I have never met. She smiled and beamed something like, "These are the best classes for our best students..."
Laugh if you want, RPD, but I almost asked, "How many license plates do I have to make?" Fortunately classes like this died about the time I entered college. BTW, my first day in college was where I was directed to a small bungalow I swore had been strafed by heavy fire. And guess what (and I'm not kidding) the first teacher I met said, "Looks like the best is better than our better..."
Forty thousand students and only seven of us high achievers. So RPD, if you ever get to Madison, go to my dorm-room at Lakeshore Dorms. I think I left a knife there...
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