fiction:: 4th GRADE REALLY SUCKED, pt. 4

Jimmy Lee and his disciples made us feel invincible. As if we could actually do those things ourselves, that anything was possible once you put your mind to it. And we all possessed an easy smugness in knowing that given the test, we'd never have to do push-ups in front of the whole class.

It was back to regular class again, which meant homeroom with the same teacher for almost the whole day, and then, fifth or sixth period, you had a class with some other fourth grade teacher for just one period. That's where Miss Cunningham came into the picture.

Miss Cunningham taught social sciences which, if it isn't already a bogus enough class in high school, was a really bogus class in grade school. At least the way Miss Cunningham taught it. She was the kind of teacher who would do about as little as she could get away with - which turned out to be a lot. I think we were supposed to be learning about other cultures. There was a segment in our textbook about a tribe somewhere in Africa who had a tradition of cutting off the fingers of the deceased and eating them like hotdogs over a fire. So it was like keeping a part of the deceased in you. We stayed on that page for an entire month. And then we never used that book again. It really seemed like such a waste because they were brand new editions: hip, with lots of sharp, glossy photos, "suggested group discussion" sections, and funky-scented, crisp paper you couldn't help bending over to smell.

And then, it being the Bicentennial, Miss Cunningham had an idea: learn about our own suburb's history. This would be a major project for the entire quarter: field trips to the local cemetery and only still-standing log cabin, plus lots of outside homework which entailed having our parents drive us around town on the weekend to fill out some questionnaire she put together. It had items like this:

Drive North on Ridge, turn left at Bristol. After three stoplights you should see Willow Glen's first Presbyterian Church on your right. On the front cornerstone there is an inscription. What does it say? (Use reverse side if more space is needed.)

These weekend trips really pissed off my mom because she was newly divorced and working 60 plus hours a week slicing culture samples at a cancer research lab. She didn't appreciate having to lug her kid around town every weekend just to document dubious cultural landmarks.

Also, although she would never say this to me, I think she pretty much saw through all the bullshit of this new "active learning" program. A part of the problem was that Willow Glen was just like any other suburb: It was virtually nonexistent, and then it mushroomed after World War II. That meant row upon row of tract housing, one large shopping mall, a Venture (where the Mexicans and lower-income families went), and two public swimming pools on opposite sides of town. There was a railroad station that was very quaint and was used in a scene for a John Hughes' movie some ten years later.