joyful noise

At some point, the school system wised up and began mailing report cards to our parents instead of relying on us to hand deliver them. I remember the first one. I was still at the age when the report card content was more fluff than serious so I had not yet learned that the delivery could result in a less than pleasant experience. Oh, but I had heard the stories on the play ground; It could be a hellish ride.

Nearly bursting at the seams with pride, I part skipped - part ran home, the tell tale blue card clutched in my little fist.

Reading - A
Cutting & Pasting - A
Gluing pop sickle sticks/glitter sprinkling - A
Music - A+

Leaning over the arm of the chair, toe dug into carpet, giddy with anticipation of my Baskin & Robbin's reward, I spied it - There it was. The comment section.....

Talks too much in class.

The subsequent year's teacher comments began to reveal a pattern...

"Leslie is a joy: lively and creative but she talks too much in class"

"Leslie is a delight to have again this year but she talks too much in class"

"Leslie's unrelenting chatter is beginning to affect the lunchroom ladies down the hall"

"Oh God Please Mr. Hull, can't you do something?"

And so it began. My love affair with communication. I'm told the course is no longer called "English". Rather, it's called "Communication Arts". I'd like to think I had some small role in raising the bar on, well, talking. Yes, Communication Arts. That's better.