I
wore silk shirts and bell bottom jeans. I remember I had this really wide brown
wrist watch band that I felt made me a bit cooler than I ever hoped to be
without it. My hair combed left to right across the grain of my cowlick but I
secretly wished parting it down the middle worked better. I wouldn’t attempt
that look for years then when I did I reverted to the original way a short time
later. I wanted my hair to be longer but my parents were determined not to
raise a hippie. No matter the hair style, I carried a comb in my back right
pocket at all times. Sometimes I wore a golden ID bracelet because that was
just what we did back then. That whole world I knew then was busting open with
CB radios, Rock 'Em Sock 'Em boxing robots, the Bicentennial, Meow Mix commercials and The
Muppet Show. Throw in a little puberty and the difficult time known as middle
school had arrived.
Our
middle school had long been a high school known as West Fannin, home of the
Yellow Jackets. Our county though built a new high school consolidating West
Fannin with our cross county rivals, East Fannin. The two high schools then
became middle schools. As during high school days, West Fannin’s students came
from the schools in Epworth, McCaysville and Blue Ridge. So, for seventh grade, not only was
finding your locker a major task learning the names and faces of new-to-you
students and teachers was an uphill challenge as well.
I’m
not sure how understood it was among us at the time how the lines of defining
each other were being drawn. Most of the old friendships and
alliances from elementary school would be tested with the possibility of new friendships and alliances. This would mean the way things were back in elementary school changed.
The gifted seemed drawn to one another. The opportunity to play
sports would define some. Others would be defined by their creative talents.
Some would be defined by their smarts, and others, just by being, cool. Some of us struggled to know, much less accept,
where we would land in all this chaos, hoping it was somewhere in the middle-not
athletic, creative, smart or popular enough to be fully accepted by those at the
head of the pack but somewhere ahead of those who came from circumstances they
had little chance to escape. Maybe that is why looking over those times, it
seems as full of as many uneven and awkward moments as it seems filled with really good
times.
Each
day was divided into six periods plus homeroom, lunch and a late afternoon
recess. While we had changed class rooms going back to the fourth grade, middle
school was a very different beast. One class could be on one hallway and the
next class could be on the opposite hallway. You had to determine when you
could go to your locker to get your books for the next class or make that tough
decision that you just didn’t have time and would have to carry three classes
worth of books to each class until you had enough time to get to your locker.
Speaking of the locker: if you didn’t have a lock, you hoped no one stole
anything from it but if you did have a lock you hoped you could remember the combination.
P.E.
class was in the gym, that place where you were not allowed to wear street shoes
onto the waxed, wooden floor. There, we engaged in games of basketball, volleyball and dodge ball. We ran laps. We lifted weights in the weight room. By the time P.E. finished and you changed your P.E. clothes back into your regular
clothes, you just hoped the fifty cents you had for a Coke was still in your
pocket not in the hands of some sticky-fingered thief who had rummaged
through the pockets of your pants while you were on the gym floor trying to not look any less athletic than you really were.
Lunch
was broken into two halves. This meant if your friends were in one class and
you in a different one, you might see them at lunch time depending on which half you
went to lunch. We had lunch cards that were punched when we went through the
line to get our food. One of my favorite meals was vegetable soup with
peanut butter sandwiches. I would always ask for no soup and two sandwiches. I
ended up knowing a number of the lunch room ladies. I was related distantly to
at least two of them and others were family friends. I would learn that the
secret to their peanut butter sandwiches was mixing syrup into the peanut
butter when they were made then refrigerating them. When I am patient enough
now, I will sometimes do this. I also eat the vegetable soup now.
After
lunch and before the next class period began, we were free to go outside to
the cafeteria side of the school. Here you could find a number of basketball
goals where you could participate in a pick-up game if you wished. Some hopped
on skateboards during this time. Others stood around or sat around on the
ground waiting for the next bell to ring. When that bell sounded, some might have
to make a mad dash from the backside of the football field near the fieldhouse
and visitors concession stand. Middle school survival code demanded not telling what what went on there
but that statute of limitations ran out a long time ago. Sometimes it might involve a boy and girl searching for a place to lock lips. Other times it might be a
group of guys who had vanished from plain sight to smoke a cigarette.
Middle
school was where we began to chase some of our own dreams through our classes.
We may have been intrigued by a book we had to read in English. Maybe math just
clicked for some. Others found science worth investigating. We also had shop
classes and home economics and business classes. It was also this place that introduced
us to teachers and administrators we, for good or bad, referred to with such
names as Barney Fife and Sharkey. No matter the problem we encountered many of us
knew things would just be better if we were able to stop by the office so we
could speak to the sweet Mrs. Arp or our beloved principal, Mr. Foster.
School
ended every day at 3:20 PM. No matter where class was located, the entire
student body went into full sprint to get to their lockers then to their bus.
The buses were parked on the opposite side of the cafeteria and library in a
giant U-shaped space between two wings of the school. Within a few hours, the
place grew quiet then dark except for the night custodians.
It
really wasn’t over though. Middle school was more than just the time we spent
at the school house on Highway 5 between Blue Ridge and McCaysville. It was a new social scene that would include school ballgames and events that took place outside the regular school time. It might even be impacted by a night at the Starlite Roller Rink. Middle school wasn't about who we were, it became who others our age thought we
all were. And, we were all changing. Girls began to look more feminine and softer. The voices of the
guys grew deeper and hair began to grow in places it hadn't before. Girls began to notice guys and guys began to notice girls. Calling
someone your girlfriend or boyfriend took on a different meaning than when that
was done in second grade. At times, rumors would spread about a person or a
couple. Even though you never had definite proof about such rumors, you tended
to believe what you heard rarely seriously weighing the consequences of
believing such because believing otherwise would likely set you apart from
everyone else, and you could never find yourself outside that zone. Looking back, I am unsure how many of us really understood how what happened during these years defined folks, for good or bad, for the rest of their time in school, and, for some, their rest of their lives.
Looking
back now I probably remember those times more nostalgically than I imagined I
ever would. It was a time when so much of the world where we lived was growing
more complicated while our own lives changed in ways some of us found hard to
keep pace with. To me, the music and TV shows from then seemed better than
today. I was though looking at the world then through eyes that had yet to
experience much of anything about life. Maybe that inexperience helps explain the
feeling of outright awkwardness I had then which still creeps in some today when thinking
about that time in life. For good or bad, when I was in the middle of it, I was certain that the way things had changed into would be the way
things would always be. I had a lot to learn about how things change.
Middle school playlist:
Roger Miller was a tremendously talented artist. He could
put song lyrics together in wonderfully vivid ways. He could also perform them
in sometimes serious ways and other times in off-the-wall ways. One of those
wacky tunes is a song called “You Can’t Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd”. In the
song Miller lists absurdity after absurdity:
