Address?

My daughter brought home a paper from kindergarten that encouraged me to help my child learn her name, phone number and address. As I read it, my mind jumped back to junior high and that day that something bad happened to me because I didn't know my address.

I like to keep my most embarrassing moments to myself because I really hope that if I pretend they didn't happen I will be able to forget that they did. However, this thing happened in junior high and I haven't forgotten yet, so I might as well share it. Just for laughs.

It was midterm. My first class was gym. We sat in rows on the gym floor, two big gym classes sharing the same gym at the same period. We were instructed to fill out the top of the grade sheet. Name. Address. Phone number. Now, let me just tell you that I was never good with addresses. That being said, I still can't believe that by seventh or eighth grade I didn't know what my address was. It wasn't like I had just moved or anything: I'd lived on the same land since I was two years old!

The gym teacher agreed to let me look up my address in the phone book by the office. As I reentered the gym, I slipped in something right inside the door. I was stunned. I had fallen so quickly. Confused, I looked at the slimy liquid dripping from my hands.

It was puke.

I don't really remember what happened after that except that my friend who had let me borrow her gym socks yelled at me in the locker room. I can't remember, but I even think she cried (she cried about a lot of things). I kind of wanted to cry myself. I had just slipped and fallen in someone's vomit in front of more than a hundred kids.

Anyway, after remembering that event in my past, with new motivation I set a goal to teach my five-year-old her address. I know it probably won't shield her from embarrassing moments of her own, but you never know.