The following is a journal entry from 3rd grade. All spelling and grammatical errors and possible racist remarks have been left in for effect (remember, I was 9):
Well, it started out a normal day. I went to school, went to reading, went to writing, did PE, went to lunch, and went out for recess. I was playing "pop" and my side stated to hurt evry move. I had an accedent on a tree, see. I was climbing the rope, or hanging onto it just at the right time it broke, evry thing went blank, then I noticed I landed on a log on my side. [Back to the swing situation] I got off the swing and didn't see where I was going and.....BANG i hit Debbie, a girl I hate!! She didnt even care! I fell angry. cried a little and looked up, all theese feet and people looking over me, then someone picked meup, a hawaiian to be accact, and took me to the office. there I was, in a completely clean room, wich by they way smelled awful! so many people were hurt! Stetson was lying on the couch, people were coming in-and-out of there! getting bandadgis, ice, and many more! Here's the Ice Bag [empty ziplock bag still taped in journal.]
I went home and died!!!
This describes the day that my nemesis, Debbie T. kicked me in the head while she was swinging. Now that I am a grown up, I easily forget the drama that takes place in elementary school. I militantly pound the idea of being kind to everyone into Holden's little psyche every day. Then he goes to school and one of the adult recess duties calls him an idiot! I look through my journal from when I was Holden's same age, and read about all the people I hate (and even more boys that I love). The point is, there's a lot more going on in third grade than we think.
Tune in for my next third grade journal installment wherein I will reveal that my sister Heidi calls me fat and says I have bad teeth and my sister Kacy is pushy and bossy, but nice....most of the time.