The Uncommon Citizen has moved!

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I've moved all the existing posts (but not Double Exposure) to Word Press and that's where you'll find me from now on. Send me your thoughts on the new site. Thanx!


Dave

If you've read my profile, you know I've been a teacher for forty-plus years, all at the elementary level. I've had the joy of spending my adult life doing something I love and it's kept me young in heart, if not in body (I never used to be able to hear my knees). Here are a few things I've collected over the decades (more to come in later posts - after all, I've got three scrapbooks full of cards, photos, drawings, notes and other school memorabilia!) And, speaking of notes, here are a few I either intercepted or found on the floor. I've transcribed them just as they were written:

From a 5th grade boy:

Dear Michelle –

You know I have a crush on you and if you were my girlfriend I would give you everything I got. I would like to date you. I am smart but in school I’m OK. If you agree to be my girlfriend I will give you all the money I got.

            From your boyfriend

                        Jason

Hey! Be careful what you promise!

I've no idea what this is about; sounds like something from the Seattle Weekly:

Dear Killer –

Can’t we talk about it over smoaking

            Love,

            Sad Girl

Here's another from a 5th grade girl: 

Dear Aaron –

I am sick and tired of you not treating me with respcet. If you loved me so much than you would spen more time with me. But you don’t so I don’t care. Do you want me to DUMP you?

            Yes____        No____      

             

                      Act Rite

Be careful what you wish for . . .

My favorite, an exchange between two third grade girls: 

Dear Katherine –

You hate me and I know that and you hate me sow I hate you. You like Martha more thane me. I do not wont to hate you but you hate me.

            From Wendy

PS: Write back

Dear Wendy –

I’m glad that you don’t like me any more stouped. Because Christine was write about you. You have me traped in my minde and if you don’t know what that means, it meins that you are tring to make me your only friend. So why don’t you shut up Wendy. Ha ha ha! Your stouped your stouped and you better not tell.

I loved teaching creative writing. Here are some examples of student (from 2nd-5th) exaggerations:

A hole so deep you could stop and eat with the devil.

   Popcorn so salty no slugs were seen for miles.   

      Fog so thick God couldn't see.

         His clothes were so ugly his shoes ran in fright

            A day so long I went to bed on my own.

               The night was so low you could touch the sky.

                  A knife so sharp and a butcher so dead.

                     He was so shy his family couldn't find him.

                        It was a day so wonderful the birds sang opera.

                           He was such a good mechanic, his tools worshipped him.

                              His garden was so beautiful the weeds died on their own.

                                 She had so many enemies even the devil wanter her in heaven.

I've collected a lot of student art over the years. Here are some examples:

I photocopied a large paper clip and asked the kids
to create something. These are some of what they came up with.

Actually, it was only late Friday
afternoon that I was like this.

No comment needed.

Henry Gay is a name almost certainly not known outside of Washington State, probably not known east of the mountains and maybe even little known or remembered here in our own backyard. For many years before his death in the 90s (I believe), he was the editor/publisher of the Shelton/Mason County Journal and he wrote a weekly syndicated column that was picked up by the P-I. I remember him for his outspoken criticism of the Vietnam War, unusual for the publisher of newspaper in a rural, conservative area, as well as his sense of humor. Here are some tidbits from Mr. Gay.

Life without death would be like a freeway with no off-ramps.

   Men make war because they do not have to shave in battle.

        A nuclear physicist’s calendar has a half-life of only six months.

            Re-election means never having to say you’re sorry.

In one column, he had this to say about our government:

When opposition to the war mounted in the United States, the people were misled, lied to, and manipulated by jingoistic leaders. Citizens who actively opposed the war were unlawfully harassed and slandered by their own government.”

He concluded that particular column with this description of a 1968 Christmas card sent by George S. Patton III, a regimental commander in Viet Nam at the time:

From Colonel and Mrs. George S. Patton III – Peace on Earth 

Attached to the card were color photographs of dismembered Vietnamese soldiers stacked in a neat pile.

Every now and then he'd make a list of country-western song titles he'd made up. Here are some of them:

              We’d Have Another Baby But the Pickup Truck Is Full.

              Born Out Of Wedlock, Raised Out Of Spite

              He Said He Wasn’t Chicken Just Before He Flew the Coop

              Credit Cards Don’t Help None When Your Heart Is Broke

              I Was All Ears and He Was All Hands

              He Left With My Heart and the Color TV

              He Pays the Rent, I Pay the Price

             I’m Just a Road-Kill On the Highway of Life

             Our Bed of Roses Is Kitty Litter Now

             Just a Beer Drinkin’ Slob In a Wine Cooler World

             Address it to “Pregnant, Dallas,” and It Will Get to Me

             Swallow Your Beer Nuts Then Whisper In My Ear

And I have to add here a few I found in The New Yorker:

            Ain’t No Trash Been In My Trailer Since the Night I Threw You Out.

           You Want to Get Hitched But My Heart Is Filled With Whoa

            Baked My Sweetie a Pie But He Left Me For a Tart

           Now That We’re Miserable, I hope You’re Happy