Fragmented Childhood Memories

I got this idea from Kelly Oxford, and laughed so hard until I cried. Then my mind wandered into my own fragmented elementary school memories and I started laughing again. Today, I share them with you.


I stand on the playground alone. A girl runs up to me asking if I want to play on the jungle gym with her, I decline…I am prideful. She runs away, my face turns red. I reconsider. I find her at the jungle gym and start climbing as if nothing happened. Girl becomes my best friend. Also, there is an indian boy in my class with feathers in his hair–my teacher, Mrs. Warren, tells me not to stare.

1st Grade:

My teacher Mrs. Freck loves Disney. She takes us on field trips to her house where we are bombarded by Disney amazingness everywhere. She also has a zip-line in her backyard. I become obsessed with her and use her to win arguments with my parents. “That is not what Mrs. Freck says!!” Mrs. Freck also teaches me to count…sort of. I hit my head with my hand really hard in a physical effort to place the larger number in my head and then count the smaller number on my fingers. For example, 10+2…HIT MY HEAD and remember 10 and also cause physical injury, then pull out my fingers and count 2 more and I get 12. Yes, I still count this way. Also, my Mom dislikes Mrs. Freck still to this day for all of these reasons.

2nd grade:

I write chapter books. Generally 3 sentences per chapter. I brag about the superiority of my books because they contain chapters. My first novel is called “The Pig that Could Fly.”  I also learn how to make ice cream with a coffee can. We spend half of an afternoon rolling a can across the floor. The ice cream tastes terrible and the process didn’t seem to be very educational.

3rd grade:

I am in a multi age class at a new school. My teachers organize a rewards system for good behavior using tickets. Those tickets are then used to buy things in an auction. I always participated in the auction even though the prizes were old books and toys that my teacher’s own children no longer played with. Also, I come home crying a lot because the boys have tailored a familiar coffee jingle to include my name. “The Best Part of Waking Up, is Katie in Your Cup.” Folgers can suck it.

4th grade:

I am still in my multi age class and I decide to take up gymnastics. This involves attempting front flips in the sandbox and hitting my head really hard on the ground daily. Explains a lot I would say. Also, I become pretty fancy with the self-taught gymnastics and I learn to do cartwheels on the balance beam. I never do gymnastics professionally, despite my 4th grade determination and natural talent. In addition, we have a carpool with a boy who lives up the street named Kurt. He wears elastic sweatpants to school every day and always gets in trouble for picking his nose and putting his hands down his pants. My brother and I complain to my Mom every single day about how disgusting he is. One day he starts to yell at my Mom about how the moon is a satellite built by man. This makes my Mom very angry. Kurt watches our dog when we go out-of-town–he must have forgotten that he was supposed to do this because when we returned from vacation our dog Sara pooped all over the house and was obviously starving. In addition, my brother’s lizard that we transported in a water bottle from Florida, Waldeen (previously Waldo until we found out it was a girl) is lost in the house somewhere. We find it a few weeks later in a plant. Kurt is no longer involved in our carpool.

5th grade:

I have lots of pet lady bugs with an Italian girl named Melissa Defino. We pass each other notes on Post-Its and make fun of a girl who smells and always wears polyester shirts to school and the same overalls. At some point my Mom tells me I can’t be friends with smelly girl, and I am happy that I no longer have to make the effort. Though somehow she ends up having to carpool with us to school even though she didn’t really live near us at all. It is awkward and uncomfortable for all. I wonder why the smelly kids are always riding home with us from school, I see a pattern here.

I become friends with Jocelyn Linde. She fights with her best friend Kimmy over the best flavor of Smackers chapstick. Kimmy and Jocelyn bring me into the middle of their fights often, forcing me to decide between cherry and rootbeer. It is stressful every single day.

A mean girl named Michelle tells me I have hairy legs. I come home crying, and my Mom consoles me with ice cream and a bottle of Nair. It burns and makes me cry so instead she teaches me how to shave my legs.

The end.



  1. […] you’d switch out daily, depending on your mood/outfit? I vote yes; my gf Katie Krongard even blogged about her elementary school chapstick memories– this was a real […]

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