this overzealous science prick that taught 7th-8th grade pre biology and chemistry assigned the seventh graders to take cotton swabs of the door knobs of each classroom. they do some shit with the swabs, scanning them or whatever for bacterias, i.e. snot, mucus, entrails and so on. they announced the god damn results over the loud speaker.
now keep in mind i'm seven years deep in the swimming pool, pretty weird and a bit spastic [i put that in bold because because there is a key to this whole incident in its root] . when they announce over the loudspeaker, that indeed mrs. welsh's doorknob had the largest quantity of bacteria, i lost it. i fipped back in my chair and began frying like an egg on the cheap smelly rug beneath me. i was gyrating, humping the floor in pure ecstasy until mrs. welsh came over and yanked me up from the floor. she shook me violently asking, "what's-a-matter with you?" i don't remember what i said back then, but i tell you what i would say now;
"are you kidding me? we won you dumb bitch!"
spasm is defined as; an involuntary and abnormal muscle contraction. furthermore i would like to stress the idea of involuntary. INVOLUNTARY!
yes, a bit of an over-reaction to begin to pantomime making love to the vomit stained carpet of my second grade classroom. that's a given. but lets be real here: is it grounds to make sure i have to repeat the whole fucking grade? when i was that age, anything vile or gross was of my interest. snot, phlegm, boogers, slime...these things are ingrained into young boys. pre-pubescent girls reacting with the standard grossed out, "ewwwwww!" only stand make the problem worse. you do these savagely grotesque things to get a reaction, or more to the point attention. i was frail when i was that age, bullied around by bigger kids, so i couldn't play the 'go over there and hit the girl that you like card,' because most of them could kick my ass. being gross was the only way to draw attention to myself, albeit negative attention. so to answer your question, yes i was the kid that ate Elmer's glue, ink all over his mouth at the end of the day, his desk attached to the teachers at the front of the class, fond of spitting loogies up towards the sky then letting them fall brilliantly back in my mouth.
the back of this memory is my first day of second grade for the second time. same school, different teacher. i walk into the classroom, my dad holding my hand. immediately upon crossing the threshold to my new homeroom, Caroline Helton stands up and points her long bony finger at me and says, "Elliott! You got held back!" hearing her say it like that made me feel about as tall as a blade of grass. i grabbed onto my dad's silks pants and bawled uncontrollably as all these kids, a year younger than me watched curiously. they are all thinking to themselves, no wonder he got held back. HELD BACK!
papa patted me gently, picked me up and took me outside. he pulled out his handkerchief and dried my eyes. he told me to be strong 'cause i'm an Armstrong. so i marched back in, my eyes still red from tears and sat at my new desk. i put my head in my arms and felt the cool surface of my desk against my face. i dreamt of third grade.
2 comments:
frogs and snails and puppy dog tails...or, ink faced, snot nosed, smelly kid. i found this blog to be delightful. Quite frankly, you should have been passed on to grade three simply for making me laugh twenty-four years later.
didn't anyone tell you yet? alopecia arreata is SEXY!!
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