My earliest memory comes from the first grade. I had become quite the momma's boy and it had only been a week or so into the first grade and I really didn't want to leave for school. When my mom first dropped me off, I kicked and screamed and threw the biggest fit of those years. I know what the exact atmosphere was, but in my mind it seemed that as my mom was dragging me through the hallway of the school, she was instead dragging me through a prison hall, with cells (classrooms) on either side. She then drug me up some stairs halfway through the hallway (it was a rather long hallway) and at the top of the stairs was my teacher. She put my down, and they both talked to me for a bit and calmed me down, and everything else.. is history...
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