May, 1984
It’s sixth grade track and field day at the varsity stadium and got pretty warm in the afternoon with no clouds. They were allowed to wear shorts today but Nick didn’t see the need having not signed up for any events, evidently spectating counts as participation.
Nearby, one of the girls who, a few grades ago, would try to keep him focused in class is dousing her fair-complected self with a spray water bottle even though they advised it amplifies the burn potential despite cooling off the skin..
This year has been a mix. It started out fun, there were a few kids forming a pretend rock band for which Nick signed up for as custodian, although in his mind he thought of it as a maintenance/technician/sound guy type of thing. No one else really got it.
Math was going to be self paced and he got to go to a different room for reading along with a gal named Missy, she was OK. The assignments seemed fun but he found himself getting carried away and straying far from the subject book and got a D, then somehow ended up with the first interim report for below average work. That self-paced math also fell prey to his imagination and, like in years prior he would have to sit in the hall to finish up some days, and took home another interim.
But it wasn’t just him. For his class the onset of hormones seemed to fuel a fire of unknown origin and behavior was a huge distraction. It could have also been a sign of the times, with the cold war tensions tensions at a generational high during the fall a certain amount of nihilism is understandable. Most days at least one class session was interrupted for about 10 minutes for corporal punishment, requiring a witness, with the crack of the paddle causing every eye to widen.
Mrs. Lorenzo had the shop teacher fashion a paddle in the shape of the school mascot, the Jameson Jaguar. On two occasions, on the same rear end, the crack was followed by a tinka-tinka-tinka sound of something on the floor, in both cases the jaguar’s left ear came loose. Ned surmised it was probably where two boards were joined, something Nick would learn the next year in shop.
Before long Mr. Martin had a talk with his team teacher, the exotic and graceful Mrs. Lorenzo, and they made changes. First was the self-paced math reverted to a traditional format. Then they experimented with seating arrangements. Before long the two homerooms were divided into Group I and Group II, the former being those with better grades. Nick was in Group I although he got along better with folks in the other group.
But the distractions continued, sometimes even music class in the nearby band room would go on hold for ten or fifteen minutes. Sixth grade traditionally had two recesses, one after lunch then a shorter one mid afternoon, but probably to make up for these distractions the second one was taken away.
Gradually things settled down some as a whole but Nick found himself the fascination of a gal who left a valentine’s card in his desk, a secret admirer. Some of the other girls found this fascinating and it was all over the room, they knew it was for him before he even did, asked if he’d read it. Nick took home the card and burned it discretely in the garage heater. But that wasn’t the end of it. After a few days he got a note from a girl he’d known since kindergarten and revealed the identity, a smart, prematurely buxom redhead who’s eyes had made funny signals across the lunch table at one point.
This eventually blew over but it was unsettling, and it didn’t help when the hormones seem to affect certain males that run mostly on high ego and apparently low self esteem. There were two in particular, and Nick had no idea why they each went into a fit and lightly punched his chest with a barrage of fists. It didn’t hurt, just, confused.
And of course this had to be one of those years with a lot of physical illness, always seems to accompany times like these. One time there was a mess in the hall still being cleaned up during a class change, and a substitute teacher advised Nick to just walk past it with his head down. So he does and everyone laughs, gets into the other classroom seething with anger at the assholes, even though he’d probably done a lot to lighten the situation for his trouble.
One of the big projects had been a foreign country report, including written, oral presentation and a bulletin board. The written part had to have margins, but Mrs. Lorenzo’s directions made it sound like you had to have margins within the margins of notebook paper. For the oral part you just read the written part, which was enough like reading from the text book which they were all used to. But the bulletin board never really came together, nothing seemed to fit, and the file of magazine clippings included an photo of two fully nude, fully grown German males in a bathtub, which Mrs. Lorenzo just dismissed as cultural differences between here and Europe. In the end he was notified that the bulletin board was incomplete and he read aloud and turned in a report with large margins and his usual barely-legible printing.
During the winter it became hard to function for a while, which is normal for him in the winter but times like this, something’s gotta give.
One of the bright spots was the science fair, a natural chance to win, and the natural subject is radio. With a plastic case from RadShack and parts from the equally RadShack experimenter kit, Nick crudely solders together an AM transmitter to use with a small portable desktop radio. This is a hit, and at one point even fakes a page for the nearby superintendent who falls for it at first, then jokes with him about it when passing by. After realizing that the report has to include an experiment, Nick devises a simple deal to increase distance and assess reception. The world-weary Mr. Martin, a year away from retirement, had already failed a few folks and was known to just stare you down coldly as you answer questions in the interview portion. Somehow Nick still gets the A.
As with most years, when spring starts to break through the chill things lighten up and they even get a couple afternoon recesses left, at teacher discretion. Mrs. Lorenzo, through the help of some girls, finally starts handing back some assignments, including the West Germany report, which amounts to a B for all that strife, indecision, and simply not knowing how to answer questions. One of the girls handing back papers is unnecessarily enchanting, short, and cute - although he can’t get himself to even say it, and Nick anticipates her having to hand him a paper, which she does, and it’s a…moment.
Here at the stadium the clear-skyed spring is a bit too much this afternoon, but this is what we get for not thinking things through. As with most things, it just comes down to being properly motivated.