Fifth Grade Freak

Being in fifth grade at my elementary school was a BIG deal. If you were in fifth grade, it meant you had made it. Fifth graders were the oldest, the biggest, and even got to go to Space Camp over Spring Break. You were the envy of the cafeteria and playground. I knew that fifth grade was going to be MY year. I had my Lisa Frank folders, stickers to accessorize my composition book, and even matching pencils. All of which looked great with my super cute pink and purple trapper keeper. That year, my best friend was still Angela. She had been my best friend since kindergarten. We were excited to both get in Mrs. Norris' homeroom. Mrs. Norris arranged every student's desk into clusters of four all over the classroom. As I looked for my name on all the desks, I was devastated to find that I had to share a cluster with 3 boys and nowhere near Angela. It's not like I shared my workspace with fifth grade's most eligible. There was John who kept a beanie baby on his desk at all times and even spoke to it during spelling tests; there was Colby who was caught on several occasions trying to recover treasures from deep inside his nasal cavity; and then there was Cliff. Cliff was rough and tough and rocked a rattail. His trendy hairstyle earned him the nickname "Raittail Cliff". (Creative kids, weren't we?). By the end of day one, I started to worry about what the year had in store for me. One day, while one of the other teachers summoned Mrs Norris into the hallway, the class was left alone to finish our assignments. I'm not sure if John's beanie baby planted an idea seed in Rattail Cliff's ear, but Raittail Cliff thought it would be a great idea to make paper airplanes to fly to his friend, Roger, across the room. I'm sure Colby was too busy picking a winner to deter Rattail Cliff from his plan, and I had learned the only way to survive a day at that table was to keep quiet. About this time, I was about to be affected by my first plane crash. As Roger sent his airplane on its return flight to Rattail Cliff, it crash landed in my face. The shrieks of horror that erupted all over the classroom would have made a bystander think they had witnessed an actual plane crash. The loud ruckus interrupted whatever chit chat was taking place in the hallway between the teachers. As Mrs Norris came in, she took one look at me and gasped, quickly ushering me to the principal's office. Why was I having to go to the office?! I didn't do anything! On the long trek there, Mrs Norris asked me if I was in pain. "In pain? Why would I be in pain?", I asked while scratching my eye. "Because your eye is filled with blood and it looks pretty painful," she replied. This was news to me! Naturally, being somewhat of the fifth grade hypochondriac, I immediately started thinking about what I'd do if I needed an eyeball amputation. My mother was called and was asked to take me to see a doctor. After acessing the damage, my doctor sent me back to school sporting a pretty dorky eye patch. "You have GOT to be kidding me," is all I could think. This is no way to kick off what is supposed to be the best year of my life. On the drive back to school, I thought I could arrange my bangs to conceal my eyepatch. But, no luck. Of course my mom had recently done an at home trim job on my wild, frizzy bangs. I returned to Mrs Norris' class to learn that Rattail Cliff and Roger both got their names written on the board. Wow, that's it. This eyepatch was going to really mess with my tetherball game, and all the punishment they received was their name on the board?! Where's the justice? I should have known my classmates (the same ones who came up with "Rattail Cliff") would come up with something really great to call me now. I had to give them a little credit when they started calling me "Hook" (reference Captain Hook) instead of "Eyepatchy". Little did I know, this was just the beginning of a series of horror stories to come out of the fifth grade.