16 Comments

What a wonderful story! My third grade teacher hated me. Just a little kid. So sad. I'm glad your story had a happy ending.

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Thanks, Marilyn, for writing. Glad you liked the story. That said, I can't help but wonder why your third grade teacher hated you? All sorts of explanations crop up.... hopefully you were able to get over it by fourth grade if not sooner. Best, Jonathan

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I was the new kid, new school, on crutches, and only 8. She would humiliate me, embarrass me, I can't remember what else. It was only in 3rd grade with her. idk why.

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Amazing. Teachers in those early grades can have such an impact. I am so sorry for the young you. Maybe it's part of what made you a good writer!

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It made me a self-advocate for sure.

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Hi Jonathan - As a child my Mom was forced to write with her right hand. Later, she used to say she was ambidextrous - she had illegible handwriting with both hands. So, when it was time for me to go off to Kindergarten, she made sure it was clearly understood by everyone that I was left-handed & no one should try to change that.

I like your piece - weaving together the threads of left-handedness, poetry, family, place & time.

And, as we well know, left-handed people are the only ones in their right minds.

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Thank you, Lois Anne, for sharing your story - your mom sounds like she knew what she was doing! Coming from you, I very much appreciate your comments on my story!!!! I had to tell my wife that "left-handed people are the only ones in their right minds." - After 37 years of marriage I think she might refute it!

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I enjoyed that very much. It sounds like your mother, she was formidable.

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We all had a "Mrs. Daniels." Fusty and memorable.

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So true! I seemed to run into one about every other year. High school even more frequently. Haha! I can only imagine who your "fusty and memorable" teacher was. You must tell me when we next get together. Thanks, Jo, for reading my post and for your comments.

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What a wonderful story Jonathan! I’m so glad you aren’t still standing out there in the hall. My son is left handed and as he learned to write, I couldn’t help but remember the gruff way my grandfather would shake his head at left handed writers when I was a child. He had no tolerance for it and although I do wish that he had lived to meet my son, I’m thankful we won’t have to butt heads about that!

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Hi Heidi, I am so sorry to hear how your grandfather was with other's left-handedness. Maybe your son would have helped change his opinion. I hope so. Still, I understand the comment "I am thankful we won't have to butt heads about that." Fathers - and mothers - can be tough - but that's another story!

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A beautiful story, Jonathan! It brought back memories for me, too - especially of how my teacher used to walk down the rows of students and “correct” how I held the paper to the way left-handed students were supposed to. I held the paper the way right-handed students did. I let her pass and then re-positioned the paper.

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Hi Jane, another left-hander's story! I swear, the persecution we've experienced is a closely held secret. Thank you for your comment regarding my story. Very, very much appreciated.

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Wow! Jonathan-- this is so good and so radically different from my experience in LA public schools. I’m so glad you had a mom like that! I can tell.

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I can only imagine. I immediately think of Blackboard Jungle, or Up the Down Staircase or The Delinquents, some of the other high school pictures from that era. I would love to read about you LA public school experiences. Very intriguing versus the small schools of rural Penna.

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