Was Mr. Grubbs third grade teacher really as scary as he claims?
As a third grader, I should have been studying fractions and practicing handwriting. So why was I spending so much time under my desk? The answer was simple. Unlike my wife, whose third grade teacher, Miss Mossie Meadows (I still not convinced this was a real person), was evidently the perfect educator, all I learned from Mrs. Riggs was pain. I am sure that I needed some re-direction, but was it necessary for me to copy an entire Social Studies chapter word- for-word? There were many other cruelties to made one wonder whether she liked children at all. Once, when she was mad at the entire class, she managed to spank us all in about seven seconds. All the desks were arranged in a large horseshoe. We sat in chairs with wooden seats and wooden backs, but there was a big gap in between them. That made it convenient for her to skip around the perimeter with a ruler, bopping bottoms in rapid succession. . . no child left behind. She was nimble for a large woman. A neighbor boy who had Mrs. R
