My grandson Johnathan started third grade today. When one reaches that stage of life one often hears the statement from elders "I was your age once" Now I've reached the stage that I'm the one making that statement.
One never knows at what age or stage in life impactful events will occur in one's life I know this: There are not too many years that impacted my life like my third grade year.
It was in my third grade year where my Dad beat me for flunking math. Gave me a black eye. In today's world Dad would have faced charges but this was 1963-64. Then such events were swept under the rug. I remember going to school and having to lie as to what happened. "I fell" was the common excuse.
Mom did take him to court in an attempt to have his visitation rights revoked. Dad had the better lawyers. I hated to see my Mom so upset and I was aware that as a result of this beating,I may not be able to see my Dad again. Not the greatest position to put a young kid in.
Though spankings were an especially common practice in black households, the memory of that incident kept me from ever laying a hand on Rose.
It was in third grade where I had my introduction to baseball. I wasn't very good. I was pretty much a guaranteed strike out. That tendency didn't make me a popular figure amongst my classmates and it was just my luck in a game deemed the third grade championship game that I would come to bat in the last inning with the bases loaded and two outs. When I struck out, I had a group of boys charging me. My gym teacher protected me from punches meant for me and upon hearing rumors that a group of boys planned to beat me up after school for striking out decided to escort me home.
I became a fan of baseball, most notably the New York Mets,a team I could relate to because they were terrible. The ringleader of the attempt to beat me up was given a choice of teaching me how to play or face suspension. He chose the former. The story of those baseball lessons from him is for another time. I eventually became good at baseball,good enough to be a starter on my high school varsity team. Always played with a chip on my shoulder and boos or negative comments on my play served as added motivation.
I was in Miss Amato's third grade classroom on November 22,1963 when news of President Kennedy's assassination hit. In my own way given the beatings and would be beatings, I could relate to what must have been the hatred towards JFK for someone to put a bullet to his head. At the same time, given the outpouring of love and grief towards him,I reasoned he must have been doing some good.
In watching the four days of live television following the assassination, I concluded I had what it took to run for President and from that day till the day I dropped out of college,it became my aim.
My hope is that Johnathan's third grade year is less traumatic
