Day Thirty-five - The canals of our city

So one thing I almost neglected to mention - though I'm guessing I would've gone there eventually - is that maybe as early as my secong grade I started to take English classes as well. There's a part of me that wants to say it was even earlier than that, at the same time that I began first grade, but I wouldn't be able to now know for sure. So let's stick the most likely scenario, the second grade one. I do know I was prettty young whenever I started to take my classes, and from about my third year onwards I was almost always the youngest person in my class, and though at first it made no difference whatsoever, by my latter years and as I moved into the more advanced classes, I was barely in my teens and had real grown adults as classmates.

There's not much in these years that can make then quite distinguishable from one another, they sort of melt into one another, though some early memories include me saying a bad word - 'shit' - in my very first class, and being very sternly admonished by my teacher, who, funnily enough, was also the school's principal. There was also an early year where I had a very, very pretty teacher called Marina, and for whatever reasons, for a few weeks I decided to skip classes - I do remember that that particular year I was taking classes during the morning rather than in the evening, which I almost always did. But one day she confronted me just as we were staring class one morning, and in front of the whole class no less, and told me that if I wanted to play hooky, I could do it in another class, but not hers. Now, 'playing hooky' was an expression I wasn't yet aware of, and I didn't immediately relaize what she meant. I stopped skipping classes anyway, but it wasn't really because she'd told me to - for some very stupid reason, I thought that what she'd said to me was in a way something sexual, which rightly disturbed the hell out of me. A funny side story - a few years later I found out she was living quite near me, the street next to mine or something like that, and me being a little bit older and at that age where girls stop being a nuissance to being everything a boy can only think about, me and Marina crossed paths when I was on my way home one day, and that sort of inexistent sexual tension I thought had been created a few years back made almost want to propose something very dirty to her. Mind you, she was very very attractive, and I was very early into my teens... and hormones and stupidity by themselves can't stand for everyhting, but man... was I ever so sorely tempted. I'd been laughed under the table, probably, and that's if I was lucky. If I wasn't, she'd probably slap the living daylights out of me.