Fourth Grade

Ugh, we had Mr. Morris the second semester in fourth grade. We all knew he was an ogre. I certainly did not want that kind of discipline. Mr. Morris did not take long to tell us that his children went to bed at 7:30 pm. We all thought it was horrible. Of course, we never knew their ages. Mr. Morris in my eyes was Mr. Scrooch. He wore glasses, with peppered hair. We could only endure and hope things would be different next year.
And then there was Michael Peroni. Rememberl, I was still learning the language. Michael Peroni was very tall. He flunked a few times. He would probably be place in Special ED. Michel Peroni one day hung around the fence to get the kickball. He taught me the "F" word. I did not know what it meant. It was repeated often. I scratched it in the top of the fence and Michael reassured me that I was spelling it correctly. A new found word.
One day, Mr. Morris asked that of all people I would pick up the dictionaries. I come to Michael's desk to pick it up and sure enough, he wouldn't give it to me. I ask him again with no result. So I decide to use my newly acquired vocabulary word,"F" on him to give the book. Off he goes to Mr. Morris to tell him used the "F" word. Mr. Morris would have nothing of it. I told him I am sorry. He took me by the ear, left the class unattended, and marched me to the office to Ms. Green.
She, too, was alarmed to hear what I had said. I still didn't know. She wrote a letter to my father and what I had said. It was a time that students took their letters honestly to their parents. My father had to explain to my mother what I had said. I'm not sure even he knew what I had said, especially since he did not cuss himself.
Since then, I kept my distance from Mr. Peroni. He disappeared just like he had entered the classroom. I was glad.