Poison Ivy

 

In third grade I'd had back-to-back measles, mumps and then a low grade fever for 8 weeks. It was Saturday and I was due back in school on Monday. 

I wasn't worried about being behind. I'd done all the assignments. Third grade was boring. I'd been in a private school in West Virginia, going three hours a day. The owner/teacher was a harridan Miss Blanche who taught by terror.

My desk mate Bobby had messed his pants because he was afraid to ask go to a bathroom.

Now I was back in Massachusetts in public school.

Miss Berry, my third grade teacher, was a sweet heart. The problem was I was tested on a fifth grade level in everything but math and that was because of fractions. Third grade required less than the 12x tables, which I had in first grade. We had much more difficult history, geography and science in West Virginia. We had been writing cursive but suddenly I was forced back into printing on double lines. 

 

 

Instead of thin Crayolas, the school's crayons were thick and not much choice in colors.

My mother didn't want me promoted because I was tiny and she was afraid socially it would be harder for me.

I didn't want to go back and took control. I found a poison ivy patch and rubbed the leaves on my face.

Sunday morning my face had huge blisters. Dr. Halligan arrived (yes doctors made house calls then). He prescribed a clear lotion.

My mother used the entire bottle by Tuesday. Pain, pain, pain.

When my mother tried to refill, the pharmacist asked if she had diluted it, one part lotion to ten parts water.

Although I was never able to get a good tan, the little I got that summer had the outlines of all the blisters. Fortunately they faded over the years.

I never confessed what I had done to my mother.