My Educational Autobiography

So right now I'm taking Introduction to Elementary Education. Love the class, love the prof. I was just assigned an 8-10 page paper for this class wherein I will be going over the experiences from my life that have brought me to the decision to become a teacher, focusing mainly on my experiences in my K-12 years. They want the good and the bad. So I've been jotting down pivotal experiences from my life and thought I'd share a few of them over the course of a couple posts.
One of my first memories of school, or really life in general, was in first grade. (That's me on the first day of first grade, on the left, with my friend Ashley) My teacher was an impatient woman, inclined to lose her temper with the students fairly easily. One day we had an early morning assembly right after school started around 8:15 or so. I filed into the auditorium and sat down on the ground like I was supposed to, putting my hands down to lean on. Right after I did so a boy who apparently enjoyed soccer in his spare time walked by and stepped square on my right thumb with his cleats! As soon as the pain hit me I remember the scream getting stuck in my throat before bursting out at my full 6 year old volume and then turning into sobs. My teacher came running over, glanced at my quickly bruising appendage and declared that I would be fine and to stop crying. So I bit my lip and toughed it out through the fitness assembly where we were supposed to be doing push ups of all things. When we went back to class my thumb was still throbbing, so I requested to call my mom so I could go home. Again, my teacher insisted that I would be fine. I went back to my desk and tried half heatedly to focus on the lessons, while also watching my thumb turn unnaturally dark. About an hour later I again asked to call my mom and with a sigh my teacher told me that I could go get a bag of ice from the office but REALLY, I would be fine. This continued on through all of our morning activities, lunchtime, and even afternoon recess. Every time I would plead to call my mom at her work so that she could fix my thumb and my teacher vehemently declared that there was nothing wrong with my thumb, even as it continued to swell and discolor. Finally, around 1:30 my teacher grudgingly grew a conscience and informed me that I could call my mom. My mom was positively furious. She had a jerk of a boss at the time who didn't want her to leave right after getting back from lunch, so she had to deal with that, only to find out that I'd been injured the entire day. After a trip to the doctor and a sucker, it was decided that my thumb either had a major sprain or a minor break and needed a splint. This is my only real memory from first grade and probably why I do not look back on that teacher fondly.
Looking back on this experience, however, has taught me to treat my students and future children with respect and compassion, and therefore is an important milestone in my life.