When my old elementary school caught on fire this past year and had to be shut down for at least a little more than a while I decided I was going to write some blogs recalling some of my favorite memories from the school. Well it kind of turns out I had totally forgot about that until recently. But now for the next few weeks I will try to write at least one blog recalling some nice memories from that horrid place. To start I would like to recall my recess experiences.
There isn’t a kid alive whose favorite part of elementary school isn’t recess. And if there are any kids out there who don’t like recess it’s because they get called nerds and geeks during recess, but that’s what they get for not liking recess. All you kids out there who don’t like recess, put down your books, or stop playing chess, and get outside and go get hit in the face by a dodge ball. Every kid should know the thrill of getting a bloody nose while playing dodge ball. I however never got to experience that. Why? Because I fucking hated dodge ball. Recess was my free time to do whatever I want and have fun. Trying to dodge rubber balls being thrown at me by kids twice my size – I was a small tike, still am – is not my idea of fun whatsoever. Most everybody I knew liked dodge ball a lot. Not me. I fucking hated the game; although, when I visited my elementary school as an 18 year old I found it much more enjoyable throwing the ball at all those nine and ten year old girls. I didn’t want to play with the boys. It would emasculate them, and that would traumatize a boy that age. Trust me. I said trust me God damn it!
As a younger lad I liked to partake in kickball, the sport that you play less and less as you get older and then never play again once you reach high school, and with good reason. Me and some other teenagers got together once to play a game of ultimate Frisbee, but instead some loser brought a rubber ball, perfect for kickball, and the cool kids who wanted to play ultimate Frisbee got out voted by the buttface loser kids who wanted to play kickball. We soon found out why people stop playing kickball as they get older. It’s fucking boring. It’s exactly like baseball, except with a giant red ball, and everybody laughs at you when you attempt to kick it and miss, which is way I rarely played offense as an elementary schooler. During recess I would just stand in the outfield the whole time, even when the teams switch sides. This was partly because I liked defense more than offense. But it was mostly because I was shy and feared embarrassment more than anything. If I would have went on offense and kicked the ball and gotten an out it would have been a failure and embarrassment. If I would have went up and attempted to kick the ball but missed it would have been complete failure and ultimate embarrassment. I would have been made fun of for seconds, possibly even a whole minute, but to an eight year old that can seem like an eternity. So I never tried. The story of my life, well almost. The story of my life is not trying but instead masturbating. Eight was a little too early for me to masturbate though. My penis at that age was complete ultimate embarrassment.
In about the third grade I started playing basketball regularly at recess. It was my one true love at that age. Well basketball and the pink ranger. Oh Kimberly if you were here the things I’d do to you – probably just call her old because she’s gotta be like seventy by now (sure, because of course as everybody knows fictional power rangers age four times faster than regular human beings). I wasn’t too great when playing basketball in the third and fourth grade. All of the kids in my grade were bigger than me, so all of the older kids were way bigger than me. Especially Stephen Morgan, he was a fucking giant, like 5’9”, unimaginable. But once I got into the fifth grade and all of those older kids were gone I was the big man on campus. Well not really, both in a figurative and literal sense. I was still one of the smallest kids and I wasn’t the best player. Both Qui and Matt were a lot better than me. Matt because he was perhaps the tallest kid in the school. And Qui because although he was my height, he was also a robot designed to play basketball perfectly. It’s funny thinking back to that age. I was so naïve. I still believed without a doubt that me, Qui, and Matt would all make it to the NBA. In my defense I had a terrible geography teacher and had no idea how big the world actually was. I had the impression that if I was the third best player at my school than I was probably the seventh or eighth best player my age in the nation. I soon found out I was way wrong when I entered middle school and wasn’t even better than the top ten girls. But girls hit puberty faster so they were way taller than me, and were distracting me with their boobs that were just starting to grow in. And of course rather than practice everyday my penis wanted me to spend time with it while thinking about those girl’s newly growing breasts (that seems so creepy now).
Anyway that’s about the extent of what I did during my recess in middle school. Also once during a game of soccer I got kicked out by the other kids for tripping another player. I was angry because I thought at most I deserved a yellow card. And also nobody liked that kid, so I don’t see what the problem was. I have fond memories of that kid. Once when I was hiding in the bathroom from the principal (long story) that kid came in and he wanted me to teach him out to be cool. He of course came to the wrong person. I mostly just told him to talk like he was black. Because at that age I thought talking black was cool, and also I was already stereotyping cultures. Another memory I have of that kid was during a fire drill. I was in the hallway, doing who knows what, and the bell goes off, so I just continue walking to wherever I was going and out of the bathroom that kid comes running out as if he was in a cheesy comedy movie, with his pants still around his ankles, and loose fitting tighty whities, and of course the shit stain on the back. That kid brought a lot of laughs to people. And although many of the times I laughed along with everybody I actually kind of got along with that kid. I tended to get along with most of the kids who got made fun of. I could of course jokingly say it was because I was one of them, but I really wasn’t, or at least if I was I wasn’t aware, which is quite possible. But for the most part I was nice to those kids because I felt bad for them. And to be honest I still feel bad. I wish I could go back in time and do more. I wish I could have made fun of them some more instead of wasting my time pretending to be their friends. Kidding of course. At least I hope so.