Hey fellas, this is the story, all about how, I was denied into the first grade. Let's get this show on the road shall we?
Let's take a trip into the time machine and see my four year old self, about to skip kindergarten and into the first grade. There I was, 4 years old and excited as hell to be offered to skip a grade. I was feeling like a man that day. The small amount of dopamine in my brain was enough for me to fuck it all up too.
I enter the classroom, I see two children who were about a year older than me next to a teacher who looked like she was about do something she was going to regret. It's already a perfect environment for my four year old self. I walk in, all cool and all swift, then the teacher called me over.
I got mad as hell I was about to impress the other two children with my sick ass cartwheel. Anyways, I brush it off, because I'm cool, and the teacher sits me down on a crusty carpet. I get down on my bottom and I feel something wet. I thought it was just apple juice or something, and let me tell, you, it wasn't apple juice. Oh no, something far worse. But again, I brush it off, because I'm cool, and the teacher starts asking me questions.
"What shape is this?"
"Square"
"This?"
"Circle"
"This?"
"Upside down triangle"
"Wrong"
WAIT HOLD THE FUCK UP. The teacher held a triangle that looked like this:
And I was specific and somehow that's wrong? Alright, alright I need to cool down. I take a break outside for a second and I'm ready for round two.
The second test I was supposed to do was very simple. I needed to pack a binder, pencil, and a clipboard into a backpack on a table, and then go to the other side of the classroom to a different table and unpack my bag. Fair enough. So I pack everything into the backpack, and move to the other side of the class to the other table. I unpack everything and wait for the next instruction. The next step was to pack up the backpack again and then move back to where I originally started. Not too hard.
I do as instructed and was given an eye roll by the teacher. I was four years old and realizing that motherfuckers are so hard to impress. The teacher looked at me and said
"Two more times"
So I did it two more times. And on the last time I looked back at the other side of the room and on the table there's the pencil. Strike two. I messed up the shapes and I forgot my pencil. The teacher led me out of the room without saying anything and shut the door on me with my parents still inside. I thought I heard them saying something about my ability to remember things and something about the shapes. They brought me back inside, I thought my parents were proud and nothing else was said to me. We drove home in a silent car ride that seemed like forever. 2 strikes your out my friends.