I need to call myself to attention! I can't believe how distracted I've become with my knitting.
I think mostly of my elementary teachers when I hear, "Attention!" Mrs. Pinch (or was it Pynch) in second grade. I always thought it was so gross when she'd bang her fist against the blackboard for emphasis -- over and over again -- and her upper arm fat would get to jigglin' somethin' awful. Yeah, I wish I had a different memory of her, too. Second grade was hard -- new school, and no school friends that I recall. And be careful about what you're calling gross because that upper arm flab is now a problem of yours truly (but at least I know better than to go 'round banging my fist on things).
I think of Mrs. Gaines (we used to call her Mrs. Gainesburger -- it was a brand of dog food in the day). She didn't like me. Third grade was hard -- new school, though our neighborhood was "young" and I was making some friends. Somehow, by whatever stratetic method Mrs. Gainesburger employed, I was frequently chosen to be room monitor. Let's just say that it became very clear, in third grade, that monitoring would not be a good career path. I was giggly and boy crazy and they (the boys) all knew it; it was never long before they'd start clowning around and I'd start giggling, even though I was supposed to be monitoring and -- why wouldn't she just throw my name back in the pot and pick another one?
I don't think of Mrs. Kelly, my first grade teacher, or Mrs. Worcestershire (not her real name), my fourth grade teacher. They were my favorites and I do believe that I was theirs. I think it's terrible that I can't remember Mrs. W's name, being one of my favorites and all.
And and a little of Mrs. Schmidlin (or was it Schmidke or Schmidlkofer or just plain Schmidt -- like Shirley) (she of the Friday afternoon music appreciation interludes avec the Boston Pops). She was supposed to be my sixth grade teacher, too, but I was able to convince my mother otherwise and she made a successful lobby for change. It was a decision that we'd later both regret. My mother because my best friend in the new and improved sixth grade class was the daughter of a guy who owned a local strip club and she didn't like that -- in fact, I think I was forbidden from hanging around with her (which I totally ignored, of course). I think I'd have stretched my wings some in sixth grade, anyway, but maybe not so far. I had to do a lot of writing-as-punishment work in sixth grade. Once, I was supposed to write a however-many-thousand-word essay on why I wasn't supposed to do whatever and I ran out of things to say, so finished up by writing, "I will not do whatever it was" however many times necessary to reach the required word count. It didn't fly and I had to find the words. Sixth grade was great and I liked Mr. M. (it makes Schmidlkofer look easy), but I think the original plan was probably a good one.
I requested a teacher only once for one of my kids and I ended up regretting that, too.
Did I say I've been distracted with my knitting? How about my life? Knitting, blogging, cooking, cleaning, organizing, reading -- oh, look, gardening.
I finished the Plymouth Yarns Fantasy Naturale Market Bag (free pattern) and I'm very happy with it! It was too dark last night and not enough time this morning for pictures, so hopefully tomorrow. I worked a bit more on the EZ Baby Surprise Jacket and that will continue tonight, since I'll be knitting out, and there's only about five minutes of work left on Saartje's Bootees (free pdf)... Maybe I'll feel more focused when these distractions are finished!