Starting St. Clare's School-Fall 1968

For my classmates, just think of the times we were in when we started 1st Grade at St. Clare's. We had lived through or were going to live through the Tet Offensive in Vietnam (and really turned the tide of opinion against the war), The Beatles-the white album, The Rolling Stones-Beggar's Banquet, the assasination of Bobby Kennedy, student riots in Europe and the Democratic Convention in Chicago that turned very ugly and the full rise of Richard Nixon. Amid that chaos, we started school and began a journey together.
On the first day of school, I spent a short time choking up, like so many kids do on their first day of school, after being dropped off for the first time in the older schoolyard. When I was in the yard, I met a kid named Raymond. He was a few classes ahead of us. During the course of overhearing kids talking to him and then my eventually getting involved int he conversation myself, he told me that he was the fastest kid on that side of St. Clare's (meaning among the 1st-4th Graders). I found this interesting. So much so did I find it interesting, that I innocently asked him if we could race each other. He took me up on it. A bunch of kids lined up and we got ready in the side of the yard where the old covered bench area was. The time came and we lined up. I think it was a girl who actually called out the Get on your mark... Get set...GO! call. Off we went. In what seemd like a whir, we both ended the race at the other end of the bench. It was discovered that this new little skinny kid was fast as well. I finished in a dead-on tie with Raymond.
Either on that day or within the first literal couple of days of my attending school there, I also learned about something unique about myself that I wasn't fully aware of. I knew that I could throw a ball with my right hand, but I was never aware of my feet and what I could do with them. When our class played kickball for the first time, I witnessed many kids kicking with their right feet. I tried this my first time I ever came up for kicking a ball. It just didn't feel right at all. I remember very clearly that I barely kicked it towards the pitcher. As a result, the next time I came up, all of the fielders moved way up figuring I was an easy out. I decided to try my left instead. A-ha! I got better results. I kicked the ball past the outfielders and they respected me from then on. When we used to play kickball, I remember being really fascinated by two people because of how small they were and the fact that they could generate so much power. I remember the little redheaded kid, Mark Zente, and how he could really pound a ball. And then there was this girl with a really long ponytail which hung down to her butt. I was to discover that she was a classmate of mine and that her name was Donna C.
Funny thing about Donna C. and girls in general. They acted differently than guys and I learned that very quickly when I embarrassed her a few times in a short span. I learned that you couldn't get away with attempting to rhyme names with things that are shocking-like when I yelled out to her one time "Donna marijuana". I would also learn about Donna's very famous shin kicks. I tried to hug her once and she turned around and popped me one on one of my shins with her foot. The pain was esquisite in it's brutality and I didn't care because I found a new girl to have a crush on. (I have been asked to take a phone call.). I will finish my story of 1st Grade later on-likely this evening.