Remembering my school days…
I loved school growing up. I’m a proud product of public schools, and I was lucky to have so many smart, dedicated teachers. I can still recite their names and something about each and every one of them today.
It’s funny what school memories have stuck with me over the years: Miss Taylor reading to my first-grade class from Winnie-the-Pooh every morning. Miss Cappuccio, my second-grade teacher, challenging us to write from one to one thousand. It was an impossible task for our tiny hands, but the exercise taught me what it meant to follow through on big projects.
I was a classic tomboy all through elementary school. My fifth-grade class had the school’s most incorrigible boys, and when Mrs. Krause left the room, she would put me or one of the other girls in charge. As soon as the door closed behind her, the boys would start acting up. I got a reputation for being able to stand up to them, which may be why I was elected co-captain of the safety patrol for the next year.
Then there was my sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. King, who drilled us in grammar, but also encouraged us to think and write creatively. She would say “Hillary, don’t put your light under a bushel basket.” It took me a while to learn what that meant, but it has stayed with me. It was an assignment from Mrs. King that led me to write my first autobiography, which I later found in a box of papers after I left the White House.
My teachers helped to shape my childhood — and my future. When it was time to make one of the biggest decisions of my adult life — where to attend college — I got much needed guidance from two teachers, Misses Fahlstrom and Altman. Had it not been for their mentorship, I would not have considered “going East” to Wellesley. But they encouraged me to enroll in a college that would stretch my wings and my mind, and I’ll always be glad that I did.
Beginning in kindergarten and all the way through high school and college, my teachers were among the biggest influences in my life. I have always been grateful for all they did to challenge and support me. I’ll be thinking about them, and every teacher returning to the classroom, on the first day of school.
To all of our teachers: Thank you for all you do to guide our kids and inspire a lifelong love of learning. And to parents and students: Wishing you all a happy and successful school year!
What is your best and your worst memory from school? If you are currently in school then it should be easier.
I have alot of great memorys, it's very hard to pick just one, but one highlight was me cheating in art. I hated art at school, nobody really does enjoy art in secondary school (High School). We had to make a paper mache model over the course of half a year and I was running behind, and it was due in a few weeks. So my teacher made me take it home and wants me to have made alot of progress by the next lesson. So I went home and was like fuck this! So I just got a pringles tube as the neck, plastic cups as the legs, two plastic bowls for the feet and a ceral box full of tissue paper as the body. Celetaped them all toegther and put two layers of newspaper on the top. I then brought it in and showed my teacher and I told her I finished early, she was very pleased and just let me get on with any other work I had. This contuined for a few weeks and while everybody else was slaving away, there I sat with my creation, but then she came to mark them all. She held mine and observed it, I at that point noticed a bit was torn revealing the cheerio's box, thankfully she didn't notice, and was very pleased. I ended up getting an A, the top mark in the class! I still have it to this very day despite it being like 6 years old, its a pretty epic story I hope to tell to my grandchildren, the motto, cheating is the best!
I also have a lot of really bad things happen at school, that when I look back at them now they seem kinda funny but back then it wasn't! One of them involved me just walking across the school field, it was a nice sunny day and was just admiring the clouds, when out of nowhere a shoe fell from the sky and hit me right on the face. It was a very hard force and knocked me onto the floor, nobody around me had noticed or cared, it was an average school field that was just very busy and full of pupils. Nobody had come to reclaim the shoe, this resulted in a nose bleed, quite a bad one, I tried to deal with it myself but on the way to the toilet a teacher caught me and sent me straight to the matron. The matron was an old bitch and I really hated her, she had a go at me and did not belive that a shoe just fell out of the sky, even though I still held on to the shoe. I still wonder to this very day whose that shoe belonged to.