The author, age 9.<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Spring 1973, last day of 3rd grade. I’ve decided I want to get out of school ASAP and get on with my life, see the world. Toward that, I told my mother I want to skip 4th grade, going straight to 5th.<\/h1>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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“Okay then, let’s get you tested.”<\/div>\n

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But before that, there was Field Day. The last day of 3rd grade was really just 1\/2 day, showing up to say hello and goodbye one last time to Miss Kaiser and all my classmates whom I was about to leave in the dust, as I leapfrogged to 5th grade.<\/div>\n

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My father and older brother are the ones who came to witness my athletic prowess at Field Day. Mind you, athleticism was — I thought, at the time — the way to win my father’s approval. I was not a Daddy’s Girl, so that methodology of winning his heart was not in my vocabulary. My father and brothers spoke in Sports, and I wanted in on the conversation.<\/div>\n

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I was in a few events that day. I honestly don’t recall. I probably won them too, because I was a natural all-around athlete. Plus having 2 older brothers instilled in me a competitive nature. I wanted to beat them at everything.<\/div>\n

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What I do recall, with crystal clarity, was the final, long-distance event. Two laps around the field, corners marked by orange cones. Race on, and I have a strong lead, coming to the end of lap one — until another little girl cuts across that 4th orange cone, cheating her was to the lead. This annoyed me a little, but no sweat. It just made me turn it up a notch, and by the 2nd orange cone of the 2nd lap, the lead was again mine.<\/div>\n

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Guess what happened on lap two.<\/div>\n

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Repeat of lap one: that same little girl cuts the 4th corner orange cone, just before the finish line, and “wins.” I thought for sure now that the race was over, the judge would do the right thing, reprimand her for cheating, and give me the award. But that didn’t happen. She got the prize.<\/div>\n

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I was astonished. I saw her cheat. My father and brother saw her cheat, EVERYONE saw her cheat. Still, she got the prize.<\/div>\n

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I didn’t care about the prize. The prize, for me, was winning. Really winning, by being fastest. The prize was having my father there to see I was the fastest. Which I was, so really, I had won.<\/div>\n

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But to this day, I think about the judge who would rather reward the girl who cheated twice, than step up and reward the one who fought hard, played fair, and proved to be the fastest. That was the day I started\u00a0to question authority other than my parent. Oh, and Mrs. Nix, in 2nd grade, who spoke with a Midwest twang. For our weekly\u00a0spelling test, we were doing the 50 states, ten at a time. She pronounced Colorado Colorada<\/em>. That’s also how she spelled it. Thus my spelling,\u00a0C-o-l-o-r-a-d-o, was marked incorrect. I challenged her on it, she wouldn’t budge. I dared her to look it up. She would not. She was not willing to have her authority challenged in a room full of 8 year-olds by an 8 year old. I got it, she was embarrassed. But I didn’t feel she abused her authority. Not like the judge at Field Day. Something about letting a cheater win — cheaters are just doing what they do; but those who turn a blind eye and knowingly allow it —\u00a0somehow that seems worse than cheating.<\/div>\n

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So thank you, probably-dead-now-spineless-elementary-school-field-day-judge. Thank you for my first life-lesson, which thus begat my love affair with ethics and critical thinking.<\/div>\n

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PS: I tested brilliantly later that day , and did indeed go on to skip 4th grade. I thought you’d like to know, Mrs. Nix.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Spring 1973, last day of 3rd grade. I’ve decided I want to get out of school ASAP and get on with my life, see the world. Toward that, I told my mother I want to skip 4th grade, going straight to 5th. “Okay then, let’s get you tested.” But before that, there was Field Day. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[496,498],"tags":[636,637,635],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2427"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2427"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2427\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2432,"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2427\/revisions\/2432"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2427"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2427"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myadultland.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2427"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}