My 3rd Grade Teacher Was Really Lame

The author on picture day in 3rd grade, desperately aping Luke Skywalker’s hairstyle in Star Wars IV, and still blissfully happy because he had not yet seen his first report card from Mrs. Normandeau

We knew we’d get in trouble for opening Mom’s mail, but we did it, anyway.

Today, most schools have electronic gradebooks students and parents can access online to view Junior’s grades and missing assignments in real time. When I was in elementary school, there was no Internet, and quarterly report cards came via snail mail. The postman typically came before Mom got home from work, so of course my brothers and I always tore open the envelopes for a sneak peek.

A few days after Halloween, I found my big brother, Chris — then in junior high — sitting at the kitchen table after school with his report card and a black pen, meticulously changing Ds and Fs to Bs.

“That never fools her,” I smugly taunted him, while eagerly ripping open the envelope addressed, “To the Parents of Brian MacKenzie.”

From kindergarten through second grade, I had always gloated over my invariably glowing report cards: row after row of perfect pluses in every box, followed by a several flattering handwritten comments.

Now, though, I blinked in disbelief at my third grade teacher’s withering critique of my academic performance: row after row of devastating checks — indicating pitifully pedestrian performance — relieved here and there by a few pluses, but indelibly marred by many minuses. Her comments — penned…