5 is for 5th Grade

My fifth grade teacher's name was Mrs. Nallin. I liked her well enough, mostly because she liked me, I think. She was pretty old then, older than I am now, with teased-up bleached-blond hair and reading glasses that made her eyes look huge. You could see her mouth wrinkles clearly when she frowned. She was old school, very stern and very strict, and she definitely had her favorites. Not surprisingly, she seemed to favor the kids who did their homework and followed her directions. Let me tell you, friends, that was definitely me.

Life was pretty easy in her class if she liked you; there was a lot of praise and positivity. The same could not be said for the other kids. Oh, I'm sure there was a middle ground between her pets and her peeves somewhere, but I have no idea who was in it. I do know the person who was her least favorite that year, though. It was Eddie Bubble-head. Well, that's what she called him. His real name was Eddie something else with a B.  He was always in trouble for something, but as far as I can remember his number one crime was not knowing his multiplication tables.

Mrs. Nallin had a wheel posted on the closet door. It was divided into twelve segments, with the numbers 1-12 written in each. In the center was a circle, and next to the wheel was an envelope with twelve numbered disks. There was also a pointer. The activity varied. At times Mrs. Nallin would place a number in the center of the wheel and as a class we would stand and recite the multiplication fact as she wielded the pointer like a sword. Faster and faster we would go, sometimes in numerical order and other times at random, spewing products in unison, beautiful in our precision.

Other times it was an individual trial, and alone you stood, pointer in hand, delivering the multiplication facts to the class. One was a joke; two? A breeze. Three was a bit harder, and four could be tricky. Five was an oasis-- who didn't know those? Six, seven, eight, and nine were respectably tough. Ten was ridiculously easy, and eleven and twelve were for the pros.

I was good at it. Eddie was not.

Could that have been the difference between being the golden girl and being the bad boy?

Yep. Pretty sure it was.

Last I heard, Eddie was a very successful businessman.

Life Lesson: Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. It's what you do with them that counts.