History in Ziplock Bags

Because there isn't enough happening right now, I thought I'd break the nostalgia box down into manageable pieces.  Well, I started one thing and here I am on the interwebs.  This is going as expected.  But I had to take all y'all along for the ride with me.

For a box of stuff that everything is unceremoniously dumped into, it is a little organized. I have ziploc bags that are labelled: grade school, middle school, etc.  After I finished a really long day at work, I thought it was a good idea to begin organizing the box.

I chose the grade school bag first.  My mom kept a lot of things.  This surprises me a little as she isn't terribly sentimental and a broken parent.  Also, you can see where after first grade, things weren't kept.  First grade is when my grandma died and that's about where the wheels fell off in my family.

Anyway.

I used to draw a lot.  Like, a lot. And for a kid: I wasn't terrible.  Now that I have early childhood ed., I can see where I could have been a good drawer. I wonder why I stopped. I have zero idea; other than the dead grandma thing.  I do remember having a zombie/horror character phase (frankenstein, ghosts, werewolves) so maybe that's where I was discouraged.  (I keep telling you I'm Wednesday Adams!!)   Also, no surprise, I was a good writer.  Those things came easily to me. 

Then there's math.  My mom kept math worksheets for some reason.  I went into a flop sweat just seeing those.  I did have special education math for a little bit so maybe that's where those sheets are from.  Also, a certificate for memorizing my times tables 0-10.  It's the little victories, I guess.

In that bag was also a newspaper clipping and I had zero idea what it was.  I unfolded it and Spelling Bee!  How quaint and nostalgic that feels: a small town, farm county spelling bee. I remember winning it in the sixth grade, beating my friend Rosalie who did not take the loss well.  I remember studying and the book provided by the Bee is in the bag too.  I remember the competition a little, I remember the anxiety more.  I think I made it about mid-way? three-quarters to the end.  Someone asked if I remembered what word I went out on.  I had to think about it hard.  I remember it was one of the psy- words.  Finally I remembered it: psyllium.

On the writing part, I kept an original Star Wars notebook.  I feel like buying a shadow box for it.  There are also two journal style notebooks full of stories. I've set those aside to look at another day.

So, there is one bag done.  I threw out about half of it.  I will go through it one more time and probably cull more.

Next is Middle School. That was yesterday.

In the eighth grade, from a life skills class, I found a Values Appraisal worksheet.  Who gives something like that to a 13 year old?  I mean...wut?  

And a personality test to see what jobs would be good for you.  Again: 13 years old. The results for me were a Secretary, bank teller or lawyer.  Sigh. So 1980's answers for a girl.  Firstly, secretary was probably the default answer for many girls, bank teller is AMUSING because dyslexic - undiagnosed at that time but still had special ed math classes...HELLO.  And lawyer...I don't remember that ever being on the radar.  My guess is that I was told it would require a lot of school and I was all "I'm out."

Next was my home-ec workbook. I HATED that class. HATED.IT.  The teacher didn't like me either so it was a fun quarter for everyone, I'm certain.  There is an entire workbook of how to set a table, hostess a party (yes: HOSTESS, not Host) how to greet guests, how to serve a five-part meal (drinks were the first part!)  I am somewhere between fascinated and offended. 

There is another workbook that required me to identify kitchen tools and processes four different ways. Pictures to words, fill in the blanks, definitions, and in a sentence.  My adult self sees Teacher Burnout Example A.

Then, because I'm on a roll and time just doesn't matter anymore, I kept diving:

High School was today, before I had to go into work.  I manage my time SO WELL.

Ugh Report cards.  I think I only want the Trigonometry one. I bribed the teacher for a D instead of an F by telling him I would have to take HIS class again.  Yep, I was Ferris Bueller.

A certificate for maintaining a 3.1 GPA my junior year.  I equate this to a Participation/Most Improved Award.  My gawd, the achievement bar must have been low that year.

So.Many.Passed-in-Class.Notes. I'm setting all of those aside for another day.  Many of them will go in the trash, I'm certain.  I see a whole lot of Cringe in my future. And yes, they are pyramid folded. 

Graduation Cards.  I was very surprisingly touched at reading those.  I'm glad 18-year-old me kept those.  Even the one from my future in-laws who said I had a bright future.  NOT IF THEIR SON HAD ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT THAT. 

A ton of writing.  I'm also setting this aside, with the middle school writings.  

In the most PERFECT example of who I am as a person, I present the following.  It was a Psychology 101 my senior year. I had to choose a public figure and do a personality comparison between them and myself. 

I, of course, chose Ernie of Bert & Ernie fame.  I seriously wonder what the teachers thought of me. I suspect that I made them laugh or drink. Perhaps both.

I am taking a bunch of newsletters, programs, and high school newspapers to the historical museum in my hometown.  They will be more valued there than stuffed into a box in the back of a closet. I've sent photos to friends online.  I'm sending out a graduation announcement and some photos to my childhood BFF today.  I'm trying to think of anyone who would want something before I put it into an album or the trash.

It doesn't feel like I've lessened anything from the box but I have.  I have a bag to take to recycling to prove it.  I have a little metaphorical lesser load in my feelings.  

There is another pile of stuff that would be from "Adulthood" that needs culling. This, I imagine, will also create a pile for recycling. I will do that tomorrow.  It's been a week since the beginning of this post; real life intervened momentarily.  

Next step is to dump it all out and sort it into albums.  I think I'm ready.  I know Kevin is. The other night he paused and said "So...what's with the box...in the hallway...all week?"

"It's a project that I'm working on. I am leaving it in the hallway, where it will bother me so I'll finish it."

And there it still is.