Welcome to a series of stories that basically make up my autobiography. It’s not entirely thorough, but I’ll do the best I can with the memories locked away inside my head. Could be therapeutic for me. Could be humorous for you. Either way, enjoy…
Previously on Life Story… I grew up in church. I sang in the choir. I went to children’s camp. It was all good times… ’til I inevitably got homesick.
In fifth grade I had Ms. Barlow as my main teacher. We also did that team-teaching thing again. And you’ll never guess who I had for science and math. Remember Mrs. Hall from fourth grade? That’s the one. The teacher that seemingly couldn’t stand any of us followed us for another year.
Ms. Barlow stands out in my mind as the first teacher who ever encouraged me to be a writer. She introduced me to a competition for young writers and encouraged me to write stories to send in. Back then I was mostly writing childish stories taking place in the Dark Ages. I told tales of knights and royalty and damsels in distress. All of my characters were based on friends of mine, while all the bad guys were kids that I didn’t like.Fifth grade meant my very first overnight field trip when we went to Colonial Williamsburg. It was so much fun for a huge group of 10-year-olds to be away from home overnight. We got to take a candlelight tour of Williamsburg. Not that I remember much about it, but it was pretty cool to experience. I do remember running into one of those role playing guys who claimed to have kin in Roanoke. Except he called it Big Lick (what the Roanoke area was called in the days of yore). What a wacko.Fifth grade was also my last year at Raleigh Court Elementary School. It was a year that was spent preparing us for what life would be like when we reached Woodrow Wilson Middle School. I will say this: I was vastly unprepared for what lay ahead.