Rest assured, had I been given the same assignment at six (and maybe I was?) it would have been spelled a lot better, I think. But it also would have said this:
"I hate my straight hair and mommy won't let me get a perm or pierced ears. I have green eyes. My favorite color is black. Marissa and Catherine have dresses with rhinestones and I don't, so they won't play with me. Gary saw my vagina and underwear while I was peeing in the bathroom and he pointed and laughed at me. Adam took my Cabbage Patch Kid and won't give it back. My teacher is scary and looks like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. I went to the nurse's office five times today even though I wasn't really sick. I want a baby brother or sister. My mommy is a doctor and she works all day and night with scary people and mean bosses. My dad is an editor and takes the train to his job and he hates it. He also hates Mayor Koch."
I know this is a little bleak, but what can I say? I was a tad maladjusted back then (as opposed to now when I am completely sane). I told Paige I used to go to the school nurse all the time because I hated everything about school at her age. Her response?: "You should have gone to my school." Hopefully Paige's psychological fortitude will mean I won't have to spend a small fortune on therapy for her the way my mother did for me. Oy.