Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Life Story: Chapter Thirty One

Seventh grade at Woodrow Wilson Middle School was every bit as exciting as sixth grade.

For those of us in the marching band, it was finally time to take our instruments outside. We weren't just stuck playing on the stage in the auditorium anymore. It was time to march. The only real public performance that I remember taking part in was the Grandin Road Thanksgiving Parade. And I only have the distinct memory of doing it once. Maybe the parade from our eighth grade year was canceled for some reason. But in seventh grade, it was cold. I'm not sure that cold is a good enough word to cover it. I was a little afraid that my lips would freeze to my trumpet's mouthpiece.

I had a math teacher named Mr. Jordan. This was a teacher who, for some reason, struck me as being one who really didn't want to teach all that much. Don't get me wrong, I learned the math I was supposed to learn in order to pass the seventh grade. But in my memory, Mr. Jordan was always handing out worksheets, then going to do something on the computer. I think each classroom had just been given it's very own Mac that year, so for him, it was a new toy. And he was always always yelling at Buck, telling him to stop drumming on the desk!

For English or Language Arts or whatever they called it I had Mrs. B-A. She had two last names and for the life of me, I can't remember what the B or the A stood for. I don't remember the reasoning behind it, but we had story time in her class several times a week. Throughout the school year, she read to us John Christopher's Tripod Trilogy. B-A was also in charge of what passed for the school newspaper. Aside from some of the stories I wrote in fifth grade, that was probably my first real exposure to writing.

I don't remember much about my other classes, other than the fact that we dissected owl pellets in Science class. I'm really unsure of what the exact definition of an owl pellet is, but I remember it looking like a dried up turd with small animal bones inside. That actually made it kind of cool.

Always fun, middle school.

1 comment:

  1. I totally still have Green Sleeves in my head A LOT. And I remember Mr. Jordan jumping on his desk and yelling at a kid. Scary. Poor Buck. Not only did he get yelled at, but his name was Buck.

    Thank you so much for remembering that book. I've been trying to think of it forever. Oh, and Ms. BA was Boehler-Allen. I'm on it.

    I hated the owl pellets in Ms. Ryburn's class. I do remember it was an election year and we got to do election notebooks. Pretty groovy. Love you!