Left to right: My 3rd grade photo; Columbus Day art and (on the back) my rendering of a Viking ship, inspired by The Vikings, my favorite movie that year; doodles and bad spelling.
My Real Memoir: The Year I Became “The Clever Kid”
It was the start of a new school year. But not just any school year. It was the year I moved to the Big Kid’s Side of the campus! Our school had an invisible barrier, a Ye-Shall-Not-Pass line separating K-through-2nd (the Little Kids Side) and 3rd-through-6th (the Big Kids Side). When we were 2nd-graders, we’d sometimes test the line by putting our foot over to see if we’d be instantly vaporized, or worse, “pounded” by a Big Kid.
Mostly, we just got menacing looks, but those were enough to keep us in our ghetto–which had all the fun stuff anyway: Monkey Bars, Jungle Gyms, Slides, and Swing Sets that could launch you into orbit if you pumped hard enough!
Swingers Forever
Confession: After starting 3rd grade, Jeff and Rory and I started sneaking over to the playground after school and devolving back into Little Kids. Because nothing in the world was funner than “bailing out” of a swing when it reached the upper stratosphere! True, I flew in my dreams every night, but daylight flying required a swing set.
Still, Rory and I soon discovered that “flying” Little Kids was every bit as fun. There was nothing better than seeing their puffy pink grins as we swung them around and around in Rory’s front yard. Once word got out, there were a dozen neighborhood gigglers lined up waiting to fly every day when we got home.
But Officially Speaking…
Being a Big Kid meant replacing Play with Games. During recesses, slides and swings had given way to Four Square, Hopscotch, Tetherball, and Kickball. The only one I excelled at was Kickball. I loved booting those big, soft, red kickballs out over everyone’s heads. But the school’s phys-ed agenda had designated Kickball as a temporary training game, and soon replaced it with Softball. Which I suckcelled at. My foot knew what to do; it was a part of me; I loved it and it loved me. But baseball bats were foreign objects. And hitting a tiny, hard ball with a bat required something I didn’t have (neither did Jeff or Rory): a dad who came home and played catch with you until your mom yelled, “Supper!” My dad wasn’t a nine-to-fiver, he was a nine-to-lifer who came home long after it was too dark to play catch. Which was pretty much OK with me. Because I became…
“The Clever Kid” Instead
I was the one whose artwork was perpetually praised by Mrs. Gibbons. Which should have made me a loathsome teacher’s pet. Except for one thing: I’d been telling myself stories since the womb, and once I broke through my shell of shyness, I discovered an audience dying to hear those stories! Plus, I could do Funny Voices.
But the real hook was that Mrs. Gibbons also liked my storytelling. And so, whenever the class behaved well during Quiet Time, she would reward them with me. I was especially good at doing Uncle Remus characters (anathema nowadays). Heck, I was right up there with cookies and milk. So, even though I never learned to hit a baseball, I managed to squeak by on my rep as…
The Clever Kid.
To read My Real Memoir from the start, click here. To read the next episode, click here.
That is mighty fine artwork for an eight-year-old. An imagination that conjured up those pictures could easily invent stories about them. You found the stage early. 🙂
I did indeed, Nancy. 🧡
Thanks. You brought back a lot of early memories!
My pleasure, Ken!
Such a handsome young man! And twinkle was already in your eye😉
*>)
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My dear friend, always remember that the heart of a true giver is never far from the Lord. I’m sharing this with you because I’ve noticed how sincerely you follow the ways of the Lord and as someone who supports me as a fan, I truly appreciate your heart and your faith. May your kindness continue to inspire others, and may God bless you abundantly for every good thing you do.
Thank you, Lindsay.
Awesome post!!!
Thank you, Nikki❣
You’re welcome . ❤️Cute heart. Never seen it like that.
Still pretty darned clever today, sir.
Yep, even my wrinkles are clever. ;>)
I couldn’t imagine Mitch! You were a good artist too.👌
Aww, thank, Ramani. 🧡
Lol.. this was a good read. I suckcelled at cricket.. bat and ball were always a problem for me. Hand eye coordination just was not up to it. Soccer was okay until I started gaining weight, then that just left rugby and writing. I still enjoy both.
Yep, that’s the way it is for us artistic genius types, Nigel.
I aint complaining
Thank you, Mitch.
I get to revisit my own childhood through you, Mitch! Although, I was never the clever kid. I had too many siblings who worked hard to keep me humble LOL!
Aww, sorry about that, Jennifer. As an only child, I the best at everything in my family. And the worst too, I suppose. ;>)
Love it Mitch! Your storytelling is still superb.
We had a physical barrier at my school between ‘Infants’ k-2 and ‘Primary’ 3-6. My friends and I got permission to go ‘help’ the younger ones…just because they were so darn cute!
Awww! 🧡
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I guess the world is thankful you suckcelled in sporty activities. You were a master storyteller and artist then.
Aww, bless you, Iba. 🧡
A baseball career is relatively short, but look how far cleverness has taken you! Kudos to the Mrs. Gibbons of the world who celebrate and finds a way to honor giftedness wherever she finds it.
Aww, thank you, dear friend. 🧡
The sign of a true gift sometimes shows up early in life, you definitely got yours then.
Blessings
Thanks, Pete. Blessings back, my friend.
4th grade for me was the year when I decided I was “too grown up” to play superheros anymore… I put down the childish things … yes too young but that was me, and I still remember that shift and telling my little brother “I’m too grown up for that”
I don’t think I’ve arrived at that point yet, Jim. ;>)
i was always trying to be “grown” and it didn’t help that I always looked younger… grew a beard at 30 because I got tired of being asked “what’s your major son”
then I shaved it at 41 and they all thought I was my Son’s Brother… 😆
;>)
Mrs. Gibbons knew what she as doing, Mitch! Well done! Cher xoxoxo
Aww, thanks, Cher. 🧡
xoxoxo
Your childhood stories always carry this wonderful mix of mischief and insight — the kind that makes you smile first and think a little afterward. The “clever kid” moments here are both funny and quietly revealing, especially in the way you show how small victories shape who we become. Revisiting this felt like watching a memory unfold with your trademark warmth and wit.
Reminds me of a kid I knew, Jack Gator. Still do. Jack would like a nice endorsement of his upcoming book. A collection of 200 columns from the last 5 years. You know him well. All in all, we are in the same genre of storytelling. Lovers of God. Thank for for considering this
Congrats, Norm!