Flunked 1st Grade

When I started school in Texas, we were living in a motel—Mom, Dad, Bruce, Dennis, and me. It must have been cramped, but I don’t remember the sleeping arrangements. At that age, you just accept things the way they are.

Kindergarten, though—that was just weird.

The whole concept of nap time made no sense to me. The teacher would tell us to lie down and close our eyes, and, like clockwork, all the other kids just… did it. I remember thinking, These kids must be puppets. Who actually takes a nap just because someone tells them to?

Of course, I played along. I wasn’t about to be the only one awake in a room full of sleeping puppets. But I had my doubts. Maybe they were faking it too? Yeah, that had to be it.

The only kid who really stood out to me was a boy named Doc—or at least, that’s what everyone called him. The first thing I noticed was that he walked differently. I thought it was cool. But it also seemed like Doc didn’t have any friends. Every day, I’d see him sitting alone in the sandbox, always digging in the same corner.

One day, I decided to be his friend.

I walked over and sat in the opposite corner of the sandbox. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Larry.”

Nothing.

Doc just kept digging.

That was fine by me. I started making roads in the sand, pushing dirt around with my hands. We sat there, working on our separate little projects, and before I knew it, this became our daily routine. Every day, I watched the way Doc walked, and sometimes at home, I tried to walk like him, front foot flat down then lifting high up on the toes to bring the other foot ahead to land flat down and repeat.

Doc never really talked. But every day, we’d meet in the sandbox. And every day, he’d dig underneath the same spot on that corner seat. I never asked why. He never explained. That was just Doc.

And that was kindergarten for me—puppet kids and my quiet friend, Doc.

I started first grade in Texas, but for some reason, I don’t remember much of it. Then, finally, we got back on the road to California.

When we got to La Puente, I started school again.

And promptly flunked first grade.

The teacher said it was because Texas didn’t teach phonics.

I’m not sure about that. But I do know that after kindergarten, nothing about school made much sense to me.

Would you love to hear more of these childhood misadventures?