If my style of discourse seems odd to you, imagine how it sounded coming from a nine month old. For a long time, adults thought I was funny and cute.  Kids didn’t like the way I talked and tried to tease me, but I didn’t understand what they were trying to do with their childish comments which spoiled their fun.  Teachers from kindergarten on appreciated my large vocabulary and unique sense of humor.

When I hit junior high, most teachers still appreciated me.  Teachers in those days liked smart students because it made them feel smart when the student learned quickly.

I remember the social studies teacher, however, who was frightened of me.  This man also taught driver’s ed and coached some kind of sport.  I learned in his class that to get my usual As on exams, I had to give the answer he wanted, not the correct answer. That wasn’t hard to do, and I could always write up the correct answers in my private notebook. I liked social studies.

I also took driver’s ed from this teacher.  He looked in his grade book at the end of the term and said, “Linda has a perfect score on every test for the course. That’s impossible.” “Not for her,” one kid piped up.

Practical application of theoretical knowledge was, however, a different matter.  I flunked the driving test twice and didn’t get my driver’s license until after I had my Ph.D.

I  remember once when I got so bored in this teacher’s class that I wasn’t very kind.  ”What were the railroads screaming all through the nineteenth century,” he demanded one day, waving his arms, while the kids all sat mute, as bored as I was.  In the silence, I said louder than I should have, “Choo, choo.” The kids laughed and the poor teacher turned red.

By eighth grade I was very impatient being treated like a child. We had both junior high and high school in the same building in those days, so I joined the creative writing club. When I submitted my first piece, the faculty adviser gave me what he considered a compliment, saying, “Very good for an eighth grader.”  I bristled and said, I would like him to comment on the quality of the work not on my age.

By eleventh grade I was even more impatient and intolerant of adult stupidity.  I had planned out my four year high school program the summer before ninth grade. I had studied college admission requirements.  I wanted to go to Harvard, and hoped it would become co-ed by the time I graduated.  If it didn’t I would have to settle for Radcliffe. (I was put on the waiting list and not admitted and so ended up at Swarthmore College doubtless all for the best in the long run.)By eleventh grade I was even more impatient and intolerant of adult stupidity.  I had planned out my four year high school program the summer before ninth grade. I had studied college admission requirements.  I wanted to go to Harvard, and hoped it would become co-ed by the time I graduated.  If it didn’t I would have to settle for Radcliffe. (I was put on the waiting list and not admitted and so ended up at Swarthmore College doubtless all for the best in the long run.)

In the late fifties, the admission requirements of the best colleges included three years of one language and two of another.  I took Latin in ninth and tenth grade and began French my sophomore year. To achieve my academic goals, I needed third year French. Three other girls in the second year class also wanted a third year.  Miss Kattmann was very proud of us and wanted to teach us up to her exacting standards.  Miss Kattman was so eager to teach us, she said she would skip her lunch break and teach our third year French as an overload.

The powers that be, I seem to recall a vice principal, disapproved of having a third year French class. I believe the concern was “elitism” because academically talented  students would be getting special treatment.  Special treatment was fine for athletes, but not for scholars. Anyway, I made an appointment with the VP and stated my position, courteously but firmly. Having nothing to say to me, the VP spoke to Miss Kattmann.  She reported the conversation to the class, a bit amazed at my presumption  but obviously pleased. The VP had told her that he was offended by my tone and that Miss Kattmann should make me shut up.  ”No one can make Linda shut up,” was her reply.  And so we got our third year of French instruction.  That year we performed an abbreviated version of Moliere, Les Precieuses Ridicules for a state competition and won first place.

Once at Swarthmore College my inappropriate style of discourse ceased to be a problem.  My instructor in medieval French literature, for which I registered my Freshman year, assumed I had been educated in Switzerland.  My other classes were in English where I also qualified linguistically at the native level.

I also learned you can dump things on your Facebook page forever and it won’t annoy anyone.  When I send news items of interest to my friends by email, as I have done since 9/11, I have to be careful not to send too much or they complain.

I’ve heard you can pass on news items even better with tweets, but I am going to wait until next week to learn that.  I’ve learned enough this week. It can’t be good for a seven decade old brain to be jumping into the 21st century as fast as I’ve been doing since 4/20

Here are responses to this Myths and Facts thing

Farm to Fork
Solemn Walk through HR 875
Response to Myths and Facts

Here is the text of the legislation.  Yes, it is long and boring, but if you don’t read it you cannot have an informed opionion.
HR 875
Also note the questions posted at the end.
 

I’m  not good at tracking progress of legislation. If things are steamrollered, they can get through the final steps very fast–reported by committee, voted by House and Senate and signed. People who do track these things appear to believe it is moving very fast. But even if it isn’t, it couldn’t hurt to get ahead of the curve.