In November I fly by myself from Texas to Virginia to visit my friend Katie. I have to change planes at Dallas and am very proud of my ability to handle this somber, adult task. Other kids at school have flown alone, but they had flight attendants to escort them. I don’t need an escort and feel quite superior to those who do.
At school, we have an amazing art teacher. With her help, I construct an impressive portrait of Bill Clinton which I mail to my grandmother in North Carolina because I know she’s a Democrat and she’ll like it. Most people in Midland still miss George H.W. Bush, their hometown hero.
I discover puffy paint and have to decorate all my clothing. Keds become the perfect canvas as the paint frequently falls off in a couple weeks of use at the playground.
My friends and I form a club: Club Earth. We decorate t-shirts with heart-shaped globes and spend our weekends making posters urging our neighbors to recycle. We wear our Club Earth shirts to school every Tuesday.
I audition for the city-wide choir. I don’t make it. Many of my friends do and I’m jealous.
I spend a lot of my weekends out of town at swim meets throughout west Texas. I love the pool in Lubbock but hate having meets in Amarillo as the pool there has dark water and I’m sure it’s full of sharks. I set many personal records in this dark pool.
I make it to the school-wide spelling bee again this year and last nearly to the end. Allegory (spelled “alagory”) knocks me out with only five other kids still standing. I don’t cry on stage this year.
(Read about other grades here).