High School Dances and Boys
Going to high school was fun. The boys were very nice, but some were mean. They wanted to fight all the time. Some boys would walk you home and were very nice.
Sometimes they had school plays and the boys were good actors, and one of them walked me home. But somehow I got into a fight. My father did not like it. Somehow I got a black eye and could not see my way, but all he could see was the boy with me. In those days, they did not go for it.
I was in a fight with a girl who was in school with me. It was fun talking about the days we were in school, and to see some of my school mates. I also saw one of my 4th grade teachers not long ago. (I bumped into him at the mall. He said, “Bernice?” I said, “I am 76 years old. How old are you?” He said he was 90 years old.) He was a lot older, his name was Mr. Johnson. I was glad to see him.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Bernice (High School Dances and Boys)
Don’t be fooled by the title of Bernice’s story … if you think it is sugar-sweet like Helen’s story in the previous post, well, think again. We all know Bernice well enough to know she is rowdy and loves to have fun (that’s gotta be why she and I get along so well!) When she read this story out loud a couple weeks ago in class, in that playful voice of hers, I remember exclaiming, “Bernice!” in utter disbelief, oh, right around the second sentence of the second paragraph…