I talked to my mom this morning, and the subject of college diplomas came up. I “lost” mine for a long time, and only found it again while packing for this last move. I pulled it off the shelf and opened the folder, and some old Christmas cards, my “fancy” birth certificate, and my 8th grade report card were tucked inside.
I was a pretty solid B student in middle school. I had horrible study skills, and I never did a single bit of homework. If I had, I’m sure I would’ve gotten As.
With the single exception of the final History exam, which was on WWII, I don’t recall ever studying for a test. During the second half of 8th grade, we lived in town, so I walked to school instead of riding the bus. I usually got there early, because it was my job to go over to the church and do the hymn board for each day’s masses. I must have gotten to school extra early on the day of the history final, because I recall having a lot of extra time left over, and using it to study for the test. I remember knowing, when I finished the exam, that I had gotten every answer correct.
On the last day of school, we all signed each other’s report cards. I have no idea who Rosy was, but I remember everyone else.
red paper boat 