Piggy would have hated me as a Junior High student. In seventh grade at South Jr. High in Moorhead Minnesota the class was divided into seven sections. That’s right, the Baby Boom was in full swing in ’49. Section seven-seven was obviously reserved for the miscreants. And even though I tested very high on standardized tests I was put in section 7-7. Two problems, I though I knew everything and I thought I was funny. I remember in seventh grade science I once had an argument with the teacher over the logic of the answer to a quiz question. I wouldn’t drop it. I think it went on for days. I researched material to back up my argument. He finally gave up and gave me credit. My eighth grade science teacher was one of those great teachers who makes the subject matter interesting by introducing some humor into the lessons. I can’t remember his name but he was a round little guy with a graying brush cut. Probably a WWII vet. Problem was, I was constantly trying to upstage him. In the course of that year my desk was placed at the front of the class, at the back of the class and finally out in the hall. I still got straight A’s. The nice thing about those days was that I wasn’t diagnosed as ADHD and put on drugs. I was just smacked around, which was kind of fun. Although still hold a grudge against the one guy who smacked me around the most, Iverson the sadistic shop teacher basketball coach. He not only was always standing behind me when I started acting up, but he used to love to humiliate me in shop class because I had absolutely no knack for that kind of thing. I still have daydreams of hunting him down in a nursing home and pummelling him with his walker. Come to think of it he’s probably only about 75 or so, he’d probably still kick my ass, and then he’d call me a girl.
Beck just informed my I woke her up in the middle of the night with a fart. The romance isn’t gone.