As a child, I was an “independent.” Trouble, some said.

Today’s story is from Casey Hague.

Kindergarten, first grade, second grade — my tidbits of terror were becoming well known until… the apology letter.

Casey Hague — Trouble?

Second grade. Mrs. Robinson’s class. Report card day. I was eight. Report cards at this level were not typical grades, but O (outstanding), S (satisfactory), or N (not good) — indicators to parents of what was to come. I thought nothing of it. Didn’t even look.

I walked into the house and tossed the card on the table. Time for some skateboard action outside. “Casey, come in,” I heard Dad yell. His voice sounded an unhappy tone.

I sauntered back into the house. Dad looked upset. “Sit down,” he said, pointing to a kitchen chair. “Did you see this report card?” The tone. The look. I’d seen it before. Dad was mad.    READ MORE