I am embarrassed to say that in Sixth Grade after I failed to write a paper and still got an A, I started to skate. I ran a lot and played punchball. My social skills improved and I didn’t harass others as much. I socialized a bit and became more human. Somehow, all this added up to it not being a very memorable year. The replacement President didn’t seem too bad and in fact, when it came to issues of race he was pretty good.
I read the news daily and devoured history, at least one book a week. I wanted to learn more about people, especially different groups of people and spent much of my free time at the library (when It was open).
I noticed a new tension, a new dynamic in the family and I didn’t like it at all; I didn’t like it one bit. I saw my father drunk and my mother crying and strangers coming to our door and asking for money. I discovered that people used credit and had to pay for the things they had (unless it was the minority that inherited them). The home, once a strongly comforting place, was only so at certain defined hours.