Angie** stood behind me as I sat at my desk. We were only in the second grade, yet the tension was palpable. Our teacher held up the next card and we both spewed out the answer and waited to see who would move on.
This round, it would be me.
So I would stand behind the next child and Angie would take my seat. I would travel around the room giving correct answers faster than those I stood behind.
And then my path would take me behind my own desk in which Angie was sitting. And the showdown would begin again.
Math. It was never a strong subject for me. Addition tables were memorization, nothing more. Memorize the answers, win the game. Beat Angie.
We would trade-off being the leader. Occasionally another student would best one of us and they would get to travel the room.
Of all my grade school friends, Angie was the one I never quite meshed with. I went to her house on occasion and we had many mutual friends, but I never trusted her. Had the math quizzes made us lifelong opponents? Did I have that strong of an instinct about her?
Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was the latter. When we got to high school, the bitch slept with my boyfriend.
**I changed her name because I’m just that nice.
(I wrote this for my monthly writer’s group. The prompt: write about a memory of a teacher or of school.)
