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Author's note: It's my childhood
Author's note: It's my childhood  « Hide author's note
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The Traffic Light System

Let me tell you a story. By that, I mean quite a few stories, which all add up to one total story. My story. I should probably start by describing the school. It was a small building, about as big as a fourth, maybe less, of my high school. Each class had their own room and about fifteen to twenty kids in each grade. Even for a private school, it was small. As a kid I assumed that all schools were small like mine, and whenever I read about other schools, I assumed that they were made up like they were to fit the setting, with bells, large classes, and a system where you can pick your classes. Things like that didn’t happen. Whoops.
I remember in kindergarten, I was left handed. But at the tender age of five peer pressure kicked in, and I saw everybody writing with their right hands, and I didn’t want to be different, so I started writing with my right hand, which is why my hand writing is so terrible now, because I can’t really write with either hand now.
As a kid, and still now, I have a higher intelligence. I’m just very lazy. This still damages my GPA a lot, since I’ll get bored doing the homework, and just stop. I remember when we did handwriting; I would abbreviate every word ever, just to get out of any actual writing.
The first incident I remember at the school involved the “trouble” system, or how the teacher record how bad you’ve been throughout the day, and it was a traffic light with a small police cap on top. If you were on green, you were a very good rule follower. If you were on yellow, that was bad, maybe you talked or called someone something very offensive at the time, like “Dumb”. Finally, if you were on red, at the top, you’re basically devil spawn for the rest of the day, and nobody would talk to you. I made it a personal hobby to sneak into the room when nobody else was there, and move all the kids how were annoying to the “red” area. Just to clarify, almost everyone annoys me. If it breathed, it was probably on my nerves. I was caught doing this on many occasions, and was moved to the “yellow” area, which meant I didn’t get an hour of game boy at home later.
How tragic.
Anyway, the biggest memory that sticks to me was when a kid named Del called someone else “stupid” (which, at age five, is basically a nicer version of F*** you.” She would’ve moved his clip up to the red, but he was already up there. So she moved his clip to the top of the police hat, and left it there. Del looked at the clip on the hat, looked at the teacher, and said in a sarcastic voice “What does that even MEAN?”
Del was given a detention at age five, and as far as I know, nobody else got to the hat since then, although many (including me) have tried.
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