Second House

I don't remember too much about the house on North Princeton Ave. I was only 6 when we moved to Warren. My father had gotten a tool and die job in Detroit, so before they purchased a house, they had to rent one we could live in.
The house we moved into was a two story fake brick house. My mother says it was not a good place, but it was temporary. I remember my sister and I shared a room with a dormer window and it had a play house in the backyard.
I was the new kid on the block. I had a couple of friends, but I remember one fat boy who hated me. He had some friends with him who started to chase me one day. I was pretty fast, though, and the leader was the slow fat kid. I sped home before any of them could catch me.
I went to first grade in Warren. I had attended kindergarten and a little bit of first grade at a very small school. Now here I was at a school with lots of kids - that I didn't know. My teacher was a tall woman who had no sense of humor. Her name was something like Karziki. My dad - bless his wicked soul - talked me into telling my teacher a joke, "When I ride in the car, I get car-sicky." Teacher was not pleased. As a matter of fact, she called my mom in for a conference. Mom was told that I was immature (Thanks, Daddy!) and needed a lot of work or she would have no choice but to fail me. My mom worked with me and I went from one of the worst readers (according to the teacher) to one of the best.
We didn't live there even one year. None of us liked the area. But while we were there, my parents found a wonderful home in Detroit that they bought.