Mark Twain Elementary school was probably the first real experience with the German language. It was then that I really loved the language. It was a lot like English in the sentence structure and the grammar that was involved in making the sentences. At that point I was only learning the names of objects and some actual speaking. We did simple sentences like "hello how are you?" or "My name is *insert name here*." It was probably the highlight of my stay in Hidelburg except for the art class. I loved art, and still do love it. My mom was just telling me the other day that she was worried about me because from the time I was able to actually draw comprehendable pictures I didn't seem to have any real talent. I didn't like school or sitting still, I just wanted to sing and dance along with the disney videos that I watched a hundred times or more in a day. Arik, my brother, had a talent for picking up sports pretty quickly. Anything he did, I wanted to try because I was always jealous of him. He was always so good at sports and here I was, the short chubby kid who always sat there picking pieces of grass or chasing butterflies. Now, I have my calling, and I no longer feel the jealousy that grabbed a hold of my heart and mind as a child.
Moving on to the next segment of this little anecdote. It was in Heidelburg that we met our first troublesome family who just didn't like anyone. They always blamed my brother and I for the stomping noises they heard above their apartment, well that was partially true, but we never stomped around on purpose. We didn't really know any better when chasing the cats or each other.
The fun in Heidelburg had to end sometime. After I had spent half of a month in third grade, and my brother had spent his most hated half of a month with his teacher, the fall of the twin towers really brought down every spirit in "little America" for the rest of the year. I can remember that day clearly. How could I not? It was the first year my dad was deployed.
The day started as usual, our alarm clocks woke us up and we went through our habitual daily routine. We got dressed, brushed our teeth, ate our breakfast, made sure our stuff was ready for the day, and watched cartoons until it was time to go. Arik and I walked to school with my head under his arm until we were seperated at the front doors. I got used to his fooling around after the first five times of struggling. We waited in our lines outside of the school with our little jackets on and our little backpacks keeping our backs even warmer. Once the bell rang, everyone rushed into the school, desperate to get to their classes that day. I happily marched down the halls and up a flight of stairs to the second level where my homeroom class was. Mrs. Gilchrest was my teacher. A very tall black woman whom I had looked up to throughout my third grade career. We had begun class with the usual role call, homework checks, and then came the lesson. We were about halfway through class when the announcmements came on. I can't remember exactly what was said but the gist of it was that we were all to go home right away. Even the high scho