This one is personal, and unkind.
First grade was hard for me. I actually remember the struggle. Back then I did not understand why it was hard, but I remember knowing that it was. I think it also taught me what ‘hard’ is.
Dad served in the Army, and we used to move around a lot. So my kindergarten education was somewhat uneven. It is fair to say that I had not kept up pace with what other 3-, 4-, and 5-year olds across the country were learning and studying. I never complained, and I still do not. My parents loved me, and Grandma had a lot of chocolates, and Grandpa was loving and grumpy. 🤣
Just before first grade, Dad got posted to a place where I got to attend a well reputed school (I will skip the name). Kids here were exposed to more than what I was exposed to in my time as a 3- and 4-year old. Hearing my Mom narrate this part of my life after so many years makes me realize that it was a real struggle for her (more than it was for me).
Essentially, I went from knowing how to count from 1 to 100 and knowing how to read and write ABC’s … to reading and writing entire sentences in a Social Studies text book, and learning multiplication tables. And so, I was a terrible, clueless student. I do recall it being a struggle. Again, I was barely 5, and I did not care about books all that much, and I had just gotten a bicycle and that had all my attention.
But back in school, I was terrible. I mean just plain terrible. Unapologetically terrible. I barely passed my exams, could not pay attention in class. I was expected to write actual sentences in English. Not just words, but entire sentences. Well, I remember all that being new to me. Red ink in my notebooks was common place. Getting scolded and being punished was commonplace. Not knowing answers was commonplace. I am pretty sure that me being bad at Math started there.
And so, I did what I did. I would not call it my “best”. I was just really terrible. But, I have no regrets. I certainly did not learn anything, much.
I did learn one thing though. It is seared in my memory for some reason. I learned the word “Careless”.
I think it was my English teacher, might have been my Social Studies teacher — I do not quite remember that detail.
This one time Mom opened my classwork notebook after school to see what I had done. And as usual it showed a lot of red ink. I recall that this time was different somehow. This teacher of mine had written the word “Careless” in deep red ink across all of my work for that day — repeatedly, multiple times in a single page, and across multiple pages, in BIG and small letters.
Turns out that I was bad at spelling words correctly. So I would spell the same word differently every time I would write it in a sentence somewhere. This teacher of mine, took the time to circle each such instance, point out the correct spelling and write “Careless” in my notebook.
She was teaching me to be more consistent.
I remember Mom explaining that to me as she showed me my work. Those pages never go away from my head. “Careless” was also a new word that I had learned that day. And I knew and understood its meaning — it was me.
I did not quite understand it back then, but it was bullying. Plain and simple. I am sure there are those who had it worse than me, and I am sure there are those who did better than me, at that age.
But calling out a kid like that, in writing, in red ink, repeatedly is just plain bullying. Imagine if someone called out every little mistake you made, every little inconsistency in your work, every single time, and lassoed it and pointed at you. Now imagine yourself to be a five year old kid. You can call it what you want. It is bullying. My teacher was a bully.
And I am sure she was thinking that she was teaching me. She should have known better.
I am going send a link of this article to my Mom and ask her to pass it along to my first grade teacher. I think they still keep in touch (somehow).
I hope she reads this article. And I want her to know this last bit:
I am still careless with my spellings, but I try not to be. I am still bad at Math, and I have given up on that. Regardless, I am doing O.K. in life so far, and being careless with my spellings did not get in my way all that much. You could have been kinder to a five year old. And I hope you are doing well. -Vijay
Winter Rant 
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