I was a reader in fourth, fifth, and sixth grade. I stayed in from recess and read the encyclopedia, I read books on my own, like The Story of Helen Keller, The Wizard of Oz, and The Happy Hollisters books. Oh, I wasn’t the best reader, but I enjoyed it, and that was pretty good for something that had to do with school. There were even days that I slowly walked home from school with a book in my hands and my eyes glued firmly on the book. It must have been funny to watch as I occasionally tripped over rocks or veered off the sidewalk.
The sixth grade students were divided up between the three sixth grade teachers for reading and math classes. I was in the highest reading class, taught by Mrs. Crompton, but my greatest aspiration at that time was to be in Mr. Wood’s math class. His was the highest math class, but I was only in the middle level class.
I did everything to impress Mr. Wood so he would someday say, “Billy, you are a great mathematician. Would you favor us by moving up to the highest math class?” But he never said that. I stayed after school and did the kind of math problems on the board they were doing in the highest class. All I ever got was a slightly raised eyebrow from Mr. Wood, but no gold engraved invitation to join the lofty halls of the top math class in the school.
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