#third grade

friends allow me to present to you. the song with the fuzzy spider monster on it. requested by a gaggle of 4 year olds.

No further censorship in post

Misplaced Memories - Odd Bonni 2025

In third grade, I missed turning in an assigned homework sheet.

My house was loud, crowded with clutter, my parents were mostly absent, and my school supplies were frequently destroyed if taken out of my bag. Because of this, I always tried to do my work at school, or on the school bus, and this time I hadn’t had the chance.

This was not my first offense, but if I signed my own detention slips, I knew I could avoid the beatings, so I didn’t mind.

That day, a special movie was being played for my class as a treat before holidays. There were sugary snacks and cushions on the floor.

My punishment was to finish my homework in the next room over, followed by five minutes of Time Out. Afterwards, I could join in the fun.

I completed the sheet quickly, and spent what felt like a much longer time with my hand in the air -in an empty classroom.

Once I realized nobody was coming to check my work, I began watching the clock on the wall. I knew how to tell analog time, but still I carefully counted to sixty along with every tick of the tiny hand.

I waited my whole five minutes, collected my paper, and walked nervously along the quiet hallway to inform my teacher that I had finished with my punishment. Several other students greeted me on entry.

She became suddenly angry with me. She slammed her novel, open, face-down on her desk, and scolded me for returning without permission. She accused me of lying in front of my peers, and held my upper arm tightly while escorting me back to the empty nextdoor classroom- as if I had anywhere to run.

She sat me down in the same desk as before, and told me with a firm voice that she would come back and retrieve me when I was finished with my Time Out.

I tried to tell her, over and over, that I had already done so. I described the numbers on the clock, and the ticking of the hands. I remember her only argument being, “it doesn’t work that way.” Even if I knew how to read a clock.

She left the room. I watched the clock. Seven minutes passed, each second carefully counted. When she returned, I told her so.

She told me she couldn’t ever trust a student in trouble to be honest. She told me lying wouldn’t help, and neither would arguing. She told me not to talk back, or I would get more time.

When we returned to the rest of the group, the special movie was over, and the ending credits were playing.

~ ~ ~

It has been 20 years since this day. I am still angry. I am still hurt. I still feel wronged. I still feel untrustworthy and embarrassed.

I spent every day and night of my too-short childhood wishing to meet an adult that didn’t treat me like a problem.

It wasn’t a long enough time before I found those adults, or they found me.

They hurt me too, much worse and far longer, and in more horrible ways, but i don’t remember much of that at all.

After some initial pushback, the school has thankfully been surprisingly willing to work with us. There's been a lot of bureaucratic wrangling behind the scenes - huge school district means it's above the principal's head, there are attendance metrics and policies to deal with, etc etc. But the upshot is that she's had, now, 2 months to decompress and, most importantly, find new anxiety meds that actually seem to be working (touch wood!). And her teachers have been sending home some work for her to complete, and grading it, so she's still officially enrolled and passing her classes.

Anyway, she's doing a LOT better. And the district psychologist suggested that instead of thrusting her back into school, we transition her gradually - one class at a time, a couple days per week, and then gradually add more classes and days. I wouldn't have dared ask for such a complex (from a scheduling perspective) phase-in, but it's exactly what N needs and despite the many bureaucratic and coordination challenges, I'm grateful this is an option.

Today is her first day attending a class as part of her transition plan. She's going to one hour-long class - the subject/teacher she finds least stressful - today and Wednesday, and if that goes well then on Friday she'll add one more class. The goal is to have her attending at least all of her core classes by winter break, but I think there's some flexibility to adjust things as circumstances warrant.