My father was in the Army. When I was very young, the Army sent us to Germany for a couple of years. 2nd though 4th grade, if I remember correctly. To me it seemed like my mother took us EVERYWHERE in Western Europe during that time period. France. Italy. The UK. Ireland. All over Germany. Probably a bunch of other places I don't remember. Even when it was happening, even when I was really young, I thought it was very cool.
After we returned to the US, I did 5th Grade at St. Bede, a parochial school in Alabama, I think it was (still is?) near Maxwell AFB.
Many of the places we talked about in class, I had been. Stonehenge? Check. The Colosseum? Yeah. Blarney Stone? Kissed it. Leaning Tower of Pisa? I have photos. WWII battle sites inside Germany? Please. I slid down the Nazi salt mines. Hitler's bunker? Yeah... now that I think about it, actually I'm not sure if we went there or not. But anyway, all of that plus the places I had already lived inside the US, including California, Arizona, and North Carolina. So, in typical youthful exuberance, whenever any of these things came up, I would of course mention that I had been there.
Apparently that happened once too often, and my teacher, in a parent-teacher conference with my mother, told my mother that I was lying about all of the places I have been in the world (which, let's be honest, was only parts of Europe and the continental US; it's not like I was a full-on globe trotter). My mother corrected her and let her know that I had, in fact, been to all those places and I'm not a liar.
My mother told me about this incident when she got home from the conference, of course, and it broke my heart. I loved my teacher and I was not a liar. It made me very sad that she thought I was lying all this time. I don't think I told another story again that whole school year. Obviously it made an impact on me because 40+ years later I still remember it.
A far better way for the teacher to have handled that situation would have been something along the lines of, "Charlie sure seems to have traveled to a lot of places already in his young life! Rome, Paris, London... it seems like every time we talk about a place, he tells us has been there." That would have given my mom the chance to say, "What? LOL, no. Charlie has never been out of the state of Alabama," which if that had been the case would have allowed the teacher to confirm her suspicious and then they could have talked about my lying problem. Or, because I wasn't lying, my mother could have said, "Oh yes! His father is in the Army and we lived in Europe for three years. My husband and I dragged him all over the place, showing them all of the sights and blasting Sha-Na-Na the whole time," which would have saved the teacher some embarrassment and me some deep disappointment.
The reason I'm bringing this up is because yesterday I went to a doctor's appointment and the below cartoon was on the receptionist's monitor. "Leaning Tower of Pisa? I've been there," I said.
To myself.
Because I still remember 5th grade.
I haven't always been good about it, but this incident made me try to always ask questions and gather information first before assuming the worst about someone.
Thanks, Mama, for carting us all over Europe when we were young, and all over the United States when when we were older. Thanks for making sure I got culture, by making me take piano lessons, and sign language lessons, and square dancing lessons. Thanks for making me listen to the soundtrack of Cats for so many times that I still remember some of the songs. I still know the Chigger Song and the chorus for Tie a Yellow Ribbon. I can still whistle the tune for "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly." And thanks for sticking up for me when my 5th grade teacher thought I was a liar simply because it blew her mind that a 10 year old kid had been to a bunch of places overseas that she hadn't.
Mrs. X, you were a great teacher. I'm sorry you thought I was a liar.
After we returned to the US, I did 5th Grade at St. Bede, a parochial school in Alabama, I think it was (still is?) near Maxwell AFB.
Many of the places we talked about in class, I had been. Stonehenge? Check. The Colosseum? Yeah. Blarney Stone? Kissed it. Leaning Tower of Pisa? I have photos. WWII battle sites inside Germany? Please. I slid down the Nazi salt mines. Hitler's bunker? Yeah... now that I think about it, actually I'm not sure if we went there or not. But anyway, all of that plus the places I had already lived inside the US, including California, Arizona, and North Carolina. So, in typical youthful exuberance, whenever any of these things came up, I would of course mention that I had been there.
Apparently that happened once too often, and my teacher, in a parent-teacher conference with my mother, told my mother that I was lying about all of the places I have been in the world (which, let's be honest, was only parts of Europe and the continental US; it's not like I was a full-on globe trotter). My mother corrected her and let her know that I had, in fact, been to all those places and I'm not a liar.
My mother told me about this incident when she got home from the conference, of course, and it broke my heart. I loved my teacher and I was not a liar. It made me very sad that she thought I was lying all this time. I don't think I told another story again that whole school year. Obviously it made an impact on me because 40+ years later I still remember it.
A far better way for the teacher to have handled that situation would have been something along the lines of, "Charlie sure seems to have traveled to a lot of places already in his young life! Rome, Paris, London... it seems like every time we talk about a place, he tells us has been there." That would have given my mom the chance to say, "What? LOL, no. Charlie has never been out of the state of Alabama," which if that had been the case would have allowed the teacher to confirm her suspicious and then they could have talked about my lying problem. Or, because I wasn't lying, my mother could have said, "Oh yes! His father is in the Army and we lived in Europe for three years. My husband and I dragged him all over the place, showing them all of the sights and blasting Sha-Na-Na the whole time," which would have saved the teacher some embarrassment and me some deep disappointment.
The reason I'm bringing this up is because yesterday I went to a doctor's appointment and the below cartoon was on the receptionist's monitor. "Leaning Tower of Pisa? I've been there," I said.
To myself.
Because I still remember 5th grade.
I haven't always been good about it, but this incident made me try to always ask questions and gather information first before assuming the worst about someone.
Thanks, Mama, for carting us all over Europe when we were young, and all over the United States when when we were older. Thanks for making sure I got culture, by making me take piano lessons, and sign language lessons, and square dancing lessons. Thanks for making me listen to the soundtrack of Cats for so many times that I still remember some of the songs. I still know the Chigger Song and the chorus for Tie a Yellow Ribbon. I can still whistle the tune for "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly." And thanks for sticking up for me when my 5th grade teacher thought I was a liar simply because it blew her mind that a 10 year old kid had been to a bunch of places overseas that she hadn't.
Mrs. X, you were a great teacher. I'm sorry you thought I was a liar.
