I was reading when I was around 3. My mom claims I was born reading. She read to us for hours a day, but now doesn't understand why I have all these books. Anyway, when I went to kindergarten, there were pictures of the alphabet on the wall and the teachers said things like "This is Mr. A." I thought some terrible force was making my parents lock me up with crazy people.
Dude! Yeah, I remember sticking my hand up and waving it on the first day of kindergarter when the teacher was all "Now does anyone know what the alphabet is?" and proceeding to machine-gun it out and the teacher being all "Uh, that's...right, but let's take it one letter at a time. The alphabet isn't just a song, dear; it'll help you learn to make words and then you can READ!"
I was all, BWHWA? And it proceeded this way at that school until my 3rd grade teacher -- Mrs. Howren, you bitch, I still hate you -- accused me of lying about having finished some baby book we were assigned. She wouldn't even ask me me questions about it -- she humiliated me in front of the whole class, told me no one could have read it that fast, I was lying to get attention, and that I should never contradict her. I had to sit at the front of the class and be stared at for the rest of the day.
My parents, god love 'em, had a come-to-Jesus talk with her and the principal the next day. She ignored me utterly for the rest of the year, except when she was slyly mean to me. And she knew the other kids were picking on me, and encouraged it. Bitchface.
I guess you are why the name of the town seemed vaguely familliar, then, Corwood.
I can't imagine...
One of the odd things at my high school was that the kids in the G&T program and the kids in the Honors and AP classes didn't have a lot of overlap. I don't know how normal that is, but I remember it striking me as odd. I didn't qualify for G&T, not even close as I recall, but I was in all the advanced classes after moving from the remedial to the advanced track, literally overnight, in middle school.
Oh Corwood, that's just horrible. I'm so sorry. It hurts so much when someone attacks your home.
Gads Corwood, that would freak me out. It's a horrific event anyhow, but I can't imagine it happening right next to home.
Corwood, that's a horrible violation. I hope that everyone can get on a path to healing as soon as possible.
So sorry, Corwood. That's truly 'too close to home' for comfort.
That's so scary, Corwood.
I remember the summer that Joliet was dubbed by the National Enquirer as "Murder Town"--we had 17 unsolved murders that summer (in addition to the solved ones), and a lot of them were just unusual killings. Five people were murdered in a craft store one Saturday morning (a friend of my mom's was driving by it about 30 minutes before the murders and debating if she was going to stop, but decided not to, thank God). Later that month, someone was pulled over to the side of I-55 near I-80, and when the state trooper pulled behind to see what was wrong, the person came out with guns blazing and killed the trooper before driving off.
Those were the two that stand out in my mind--I don't know if they ever solved either of those cases.
Mrs. Howren, you bitch, I still hate you -- accused me of lying about having finished some baby book we were assigned. She wouldn't even ask me me questions about it -- she humiliated me in front of the whole class, told me no one could have read it that fast, I was lying to get attention, and that I should never contradict her.
Bad teachers suck. I don't recall having any really bad teachers, just a sucky middle school counselor, but you don't have to deal with a counselor every day.
