Assessments reigned that day, in the classroom. Test were being taken to determine certain things for the state of Texas educational system.

One little girl took things too seriously: her mother put her hair in a bun and covered the little ball of blonde hair with a netting of off-white crochet.
“Oh, brother,” I said her. “Is that necessary?” I had just learned the word “necessary,” inadvertently when I groaned at what I thought was in perfect unison with my other classmates who had groaned about a last minute homework assignment from our third grade teacher. For some reason, my groan came on the tail end of the others. Boy did the teacher grab that tail and say to me “Petey was that necessary?”

“Um, no,” I answered, instantly learning that necessary was a word I needed to know.

So back to the little girl: she patted her bun and gave me that sleepy look of annoyance she gave most boys. We were at that age where boys were against girls and vice versa.

All morning and afternoon we took tests. We tried to prove ourselves. It was dumb.

And unnecessary.