Nope, I don't have a whole lotta memories to go on. But I have this one. It must be from September when I was in second grade, because the accident that claimed two lives and injured the other two of us happened on October 5, and academic prowess was no longer an issue.
(Please understand that I grew up way out in the country and attended a small rural school where the teachers performed miracles every day on a shoestring budget. So if I stood out in any way, it was only because the pond was very tiny. Which was confirmed for me some years later when sports, geometry, and chemistry were introduced into into my life, accompanied by the concept of Failure.)
We are in the car, and my mommy says:
"Your daddy and I have been talking, and we wonder if you would like to skip into third grade?"
"No? Really? We thought that you might enjoy it."
"No. Second grade is when we learn to write cursive. In third grade everyone writes everything in cursive and I wouldn't know how and everyone would tease me for being stupid."
"I don't think they would do that, sweetie."
"Yes, they would. Skipping second grade would be a Very Bad Idea. It would be a Terrible Idea."
"Do you want to think about it?"
I was all grown up and in law school when someone pointed out to me, Your mother listened to you.