Junior High

I was recently reminded of how old I am and how long it has been since I was in my children’s shoes. Just last month I saw in the newspaper that my junior high school was being demolished. In the school district’s defense, the junior high was very old and it had outlasted its purpose. A few days ago, I drove by the place of my memories and there is a new school in its place. The home of my awkward adolescent experiences has been replaced with a fresh school and a clean playground (the junior high was replaced with an elementary school).

It’s been a long time since I sat in a smoldering hot classroom during the last days of August and listened to my Health teacher talk about “The Birds and The Bees”, while my young friends giggled uncontrollably. It’s been 31 years since I ran the mile quicker than any student in the 7th Grade and my PT teacher place my name and time on the gym wall. But it seems like yesterday when I sat in class behind my first love (I’m sorry Mrs. Grouchy but you were not the first) and had her beauty messed with my young mind. Yes, Gina Peterson and I were a great couple, even though our relationship was just a figment of my imagination, and maybe some of my late night dreams.

I can still remember when Pat Wagner was caught smoking pot in a secluded area behind the gym. He had a great hiding place but it was the aroma that gave him away. Our assistant principal was making the rounds when he quickly recognized a familiar smell and tracked it down to the perpetrator. I’m still wondering how this guy was so familiar with the smell of pot vs. normal cigarette smoke. In 1980, smoking cigarettes in public was still considered acceptable. Somehow our young assistant principal, with a squeaky clean reputation, knew the difference between the smell of our janitor's Marlboro and Pat’s doobie.

One of my most vivid memories was of my friends making “Ninja Throwing Stars” in Metals class. Afterwards, they proceeded to test the weapons on the shop wall until Mr. Roundy discovered their actions and confiscated the stars. My shop teacher was a little angry and took the boy by the hair on the back of their heads and literally knocked their heads together. Yes, in today’s world Mr. Roundy would have lost his job, made the nightly news for child abuse and had been sued by angry parents. But in 1980, he was praised for being an effective teacher and my friends quietly took their corporal punishment because they knew the retribution from their dads would have been much more sever.

I must admit that when I was a young teenager going through the junior high experience I wondered if it would ever end. I usually dreaded the long days of learning and if someone had told me my school was going to be demolished I would have jumped for joy. However, life has changed me and today that time in my life just make me smile. The old school building was valuable to me because it was a part of my history. But progress must move forward and the old build is gone. However, for some reason I feel like I’ve lost a ugly-stinky-annoying old friend.

Yes, Today I’m feeling very old so I think I’m going to Sears and buy me one of those jumpsuits that every old guy owns. Those suits are versatile; I’ve seen them worn to weddings, funerals, church and around town. I believe Mrs. Grouchy will think I’m real sexy in one of those things and color cordination is always a snap!