let not my letter

I have a very vivid memory of sitting in a first grade classroom (first grade was my first actual classroom because my mom homeschooled me for kindergarten) thinking “I am literally going to die, I can’t live one more minute without reading a story, but I’ve already gotten my book confiscated for peeking at it during class and I have no backup book and I’m going to die” and then thinking in a burst of divine inspiration “WHAT IF I TELL MYSELF A STORY INSIDE MY HEAD.  THEY CAN’T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME.  PHYSICALLY THEY CANNOT.”

But then when I was in second grade (at a different school, because I told my mom I wished I could die so I didn’t have to go to school any more and it alarmed her so much she got me sent to a Montessori-influenced magnet school instead) we had spelling “pre tests” on Mondays where we were given (out loud) a big long list of words to write down, all on a theme (like say “trees”) and ranging in difficulty from simple (“leaf”) to complex (“deciduous”), and depending on how many you spelled right, your spelling words to study for the week were either the simplest set, the medium set, or the most complex set.

Anyone have the gif’s of the Chilean goalkeeper Christiane Endler lifting two of her teammates with ease.

Just so we’re clear about what an absolute unit this woman is