Bertrand Ave Elementary School

My daughter went here for K-​1^st and I have to say that the teachers here are what makes this school special. That and the kick-​butt PTA (full disclosure, my wife was the president for the ’11-’12 school year.)
In the past couple of years there’s been a tremendous effort to update the school facilities, including a new computer lab and a lot of work improving the landscaping and working on beautification projects. While my daughter is off to a different school next year, my son may end up going here for Kindergarten, so I look forward to returning to Bertrand!

Give me back my childhood.
Give me back my childhood so I can rewrite anew, not because I regret it, but because it would be interesting to live what might have been.
On the very first day of kindergarten, I was stoned by all the other kids. Think King Kong atop the Empire State Building, except it’s me, tall five year old kid with weird eyes and spikey hair atop the jungle gym. Everyone was Hispanic or White, except for me. I didn’t speak anything they had ever heard. I didn’t look like anyone they’d ever seen. I learned from that first day that I was and would always be different. Outside of that, I loved kindergarten. We had a large rug on the floor where we’d all sit together, and she’d take out the phonograph player and we’d sing.
Class itself was frustrating. I didn’t know how to say, «I need to go to the bathroom.» I didn’t know how to say much of anything. They put me in ESL (English as a Second Language), but that only confused things. They would teach me in English, which I didn’t understand, and then halfway through the day, switch me to the ESL instruction in Spanish, which I didn’t understand either. They eventually taught me how to say, «I need to go to the bathroom,» in Spanish and English. I’m not sure which came first. Needless to say, there were accidents. As for the math, it was difficult. I had forgotten all the long division and pre-​algebra my mom had already taught me when I was three, because they kept telling me to count out loud to ten using popsicle sticks. I didn’t know how to say «one» to «ten» in English. It didn’t help that my mom, in her infinite wisdom, had taught me basic reading prior to entering kindergarten — in French. Tragicomedy.
So I finished the first, second, and third grade math books in the first two weeks of first grade. My teacher wanted me to skip to third grade. Mom said no, said, they’ll take advantage of you, six year old third grader with only a year of English. So I stayed. Bad choice. I was never beat down by the bigger kid — I was always the bigger kid. And I was never academically challenged, once I got a hang of this bastard tongue. I’d end up taking advantage of them up till college. Also bad for me. I never learned how to study. See what’s wrong with public edumacation? Down with populists…
So when I actually got to third grade, busing started. Robert was Asian Boy #2 and Japa Knees from downtown LA. «You guys are best friends!» That’s what the stupid kids said — the very first day we met. We were dumber. We listened to them. My only friend. Oh, let me tell you. Nori tastes like dehydrated crap to a third grader who’s never eaten it before. And you Japanese with your stationary goods obsession: it’s a sickness. Find help. Oh, and there was Darryl, the sole black kid who came in with busing. He instantly became the coolest kid in school — even though he was at least a good foot shorter than me, and the shortest kid in class. He had a gang of followers. After that first day in kindergarten, no one really messed with me. I was, from the first to the last day, the tallest kid in school. Go Yellow Team.
I saw my first boobs here. Hyun Sook Kim. (There’s like two thousand girls with this name in LA alone…) She didn’t actually have boobs. No girls did in fifth grade. The next day, a girl tried to one-​up her by bringing in her dad’s Playboy. She showed us in the garden, and I knew we weren’t supposed to look at this, that it was somehow «bad,» but it really didn’t look like anything. Hyun Sook flashed us again. Stupid girls.
Hi to:
Kimberly Patterson — you weren’t cute, but everyone thought you were, and so I liked you purely out of cluelessness. I hope you’re miserable, but I’m sure you’re not.
Vicky Clark — the transfer student. You were cute, and you talked to me, and probably started my thing for redheads. I bet you’re still beautiful.
Thai girl — too bad you were like a year or two behind me. What was your name, anyway? I can’t remember, to save my life…
Bethlehem Kifle — the tallest girl in school, and also the other first soprano. Big hugs. =)
And thanks to Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Abbazia, Mrs. Gerken, Mrs. Martens, Mr. Lee… god I’m old, the memory’s failing. You should have taught me how to remember better.
P. S. If you’re still using them, those atomic bomb drills should probably be rethought… I don’t think closing the blinds really does anything to stop those darn gamma rays…
P. P. S. I miss the rainy day games and the chocolate milk. And I’m still sorry for asking that tiny Mexican kid for his fried chicken. I think I scared him.