Carl didn't think much about school, and his report cards showed it. He had a cavalier attitude. A passing grade was good enough for him. He had gotten through Kindergarden, and now he was in the First Grade.
He summed it all up one afternoon when he got home.
He was learning how to read and now he could write his name.
Carl looked at Mom and said, "I don't need that place anymore."
From then on he'd settle for just getting by.
I guess he knew Dad would have a railroad job waiting for him.
For Carl school was just like a freight train sitting on a siding; he was waiting for the tracks to clear so he could head on up the line.
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