I'm reading Kick Me by Paul Feig now. It's wonderful in that universal way that books about kids can be. All the experiences contained in it are things you probably remember from your childhood: the kid that puked that sat behind you, the mean nickname someone gave you, the boneheaded things your parents did to humiliate you. Everyone has elementary school stories. Feig is just really good at presenting them in a humorous way. And in the spirit of Kick Me, here is my elementary school story, the way I remember it:
I wanted to be a strawberry for Halloween when I was in first grade. It's not the most normal request; most kids probably said, "Mom, I want to be a scary witch." Nonetheless, my mom was a good sport, and at that point, made both my and my sister's costumes, so she decided to make me a strawberry. I remember going to the fabric store with her to get a pattern (which I think was hard to find). I also remember the costume vividly. I think it was felt; I think there was a green cap to go with the outfit. Anyway, I loved it, and I still give my mom tons of credit for making a strawberry costume for her quirky little girl. And here's how I know I was quirky:
There was an all school costume parade in the main gym. An announcer would say, "All the ghosts now!", and all the little ghosts would walk in a big circle with everyone watching. Well, the announcer went through everything: cheerleaders, vampires, ghosts, poodle-skirt girls, animals, etc etc. And I still hadn't paraded. As a first-grader, this was traumatic. I was different. And boy was I, because when the announcer finally called me, it was like this: "Okay, anyone who hasn't been called yet, come up now." And this was me. And probably about 20 other kids. Now, in a school where there are 7 first grade classes alone, this is bad. 20 kids or so, and me. I don't remember how I felt at the time, but now I have some thoughts about it.
Part of me is really proud of the fact that I was different than everyone. I like the fact that I decided to go my own way. But another, smaller part of me feels saddened that I wasn't a part of the general camaraderie of the classes. This is probably me just being melodramatic, but I do feel, still, proud of the strawberry that I was. And frankly, I'd consider being a strawberry again for Halloween. I would just have to get Sam to be a shortcake.
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