Thursday, April 10, 2014

Getting Clubbed

59


At the start of my Senior year of High School, I was already shaken by the surprise disowning, but I knew by returning to school I'd return to the continuity and friendships which had sustained me during the previous years' rockiness in my home life.
Right off the bat, the guidance counselor was pulling aside each of my friends one-by-one over the first two weeks to talk with them about their college options and provide suggestions; they would talk excitedly about these meetings and what they were going to pursue. Having entered High School with the goal of going to the Air Force Academy as a stepping stone to the Astronaut program, that goal had been dashed when I discovered that, in order to get into any military service, one needed to first pass a physical. Given my 'situation', I couldn't imagine how I was going to do that and my life long thoughts of becoming an astronaut disappeared. I never imagined doing anything with computers in my childhood, but by dumb luck in my Freshman year I had stumbled upon one and by my Sophomore year I was a 'Computer Programming Genius', so some felt. It was now clear to me that I would, of course, be going into the computer field, maybe even taking it by storm...! Suffering from a bit of ego are we? Yes, but not unjustifiably given how Zack Hatch had been touring me to various computer fairs in my previous years and people showing-up at the grocery to request my help with their computers.
Back in seventh grade, when two of my best friends moved away with the turn of the calendar year, I got a little nervous about losing friends and began the new year talking to my friends about starting a 'Club', we could come up with little rules and by laws, but essentially I just wanted to make sure no other friends in my life were going to abruptly go away. Once I satisfied myself with this, I let the whole club concept fade away. To over compensate for my home life this year, I felt compelled to gather my friends around me once more and revived the 'Club' concept, but this time I was adding the twist of it being a Computer Club. Effectively, once a week we would stay after school on late bus night and have classes to essentially teach computer programming and end the sessions with a bit of game playing.
Luke really liked this idea, whereas my other friends had other things they needed to do. Still, with Luke's enthusiasm, he said we could have the club officially registered with the school and went to the office to see what was needed. Turned out we had to have a teacher as the club sponsor. Zack would have been the obvious choice, but he wasn't available. So we went to the other two math teachers, but one already had the math club and didn't want to sponsor another club, the other math teacher didn't have the time as he had taken on the bulk of Zack's classes for the year. Roaming the school and racking our brains, we checked back at the office and verified that we just needed a teacher, not one who was familiar with the topic of the club, so then we went out to search for any teacher who'd be our sponsor.
The wood shop teacher was a nice guy and we knew he also taught some of the other cool classes, such as 'Photography' and we thought... Okay, I'm lying: We were just walking down the hallway and he walked out of the wood shop door and bumped into us. We each excused ourselves. Then, as an after thought, Luke and I turned back to him and said, ''Hey, we're forming a computer club? Would you like to be our sponsor?''
''Do I have to know anything about computers?''
“Nope.''
''Okay!''
And we were off to the office to register the club. Now 'official', we started recruiting for the next few days. We posted a sign-up sheet and when that didn't attract much attention, Luke and I flat out trawled the school soliciting recruits. We only got a couple of takers from our grade level and began trying to recruit from the Junior level, rounded up a few more takers, and Luke felt that was a good enough start, but ultimately as I was doing this to fill a hole in my soul, I decided to go through the latest Sophomores as well and found two girls who said they'd be interested.
Next was the question of where to meet. The original Trash 80 Model I had been moved from the teacher's lounge to its own little closet halfway through our Sophomore year. This didn't seem like a great place to stuff in a group of ten students and show them how to use a computer. Fortunately, the school had just bought a Trash 80 Model III for the office this year. It came with a printer and, as they didn't have anywhere else to put it, they placed it on a side table in the office's conference room. This room was not only much bigger but had the newfangled 'white boards' mounted on a couple of walls which were pretty futuristic for the nineteen eighties. I checked with the office and they said we could use it for the club. Great news for the club, but also great news for me as it'd give me a chance to familiarize myself with another variation of computer.
All was set and we'd have our first meeting with the first week of October.
By the end of September, I noticed that the guidance counselor had finished going through my friends and even all my other classmates that I knew of. Clearly, he'd forgotten about me and so I took the initiative of making an appointment with him. When I arrived, he wanted to know what was up. I noted that he had talked to all of my friends about their college options but seemed to have forgotten me. He told me he hadn't, he just didn't see any reason to talk to me. Oh? Yes, as I already had the job at the grocery store. Huh? Some of my other friends also had jobs at the grocery store and he'd spoken to them about college options:
''Well, yes, that's true. But given your I.Q., staying at the grocery store would be the best option for you. You might even one day work yourself up to the position of stocker,'' he concluded with a reassuring smile.
As I had started out at the branch grocery store stocking shelves at the age of eight, the thought of one day working up to that level seemed like a foolish goal. But what had most caught my interest in what he said, I asked about: ''So you know what my I.Q. is?''
''Yes, they had tested you as well as a number of other students back in Nineteen Seventy-Three.''
''So what is it?'' I asked but in truth I wanted to know how it said that being a grocery stocker was my best option in life.
''Oh, well, it's often counter productive to tell people what their I.Q. score is as they will often give up and not try anymore.''
And I continued to sit in the chair in his office with this slowly-sinking feeling, ''But you can give me an idea of where the score the falls, can't you?''
At this he started flipping through the pages of the folder on the desk in front of him. It dawned on me that the folder must be about me as he continued, ''Actually, I shouldn't, as even giving that could...'' And his words trailed off as he reached a page that caught his attention. ''Well, actually,'' he started again, but suddenly closed the folder and told me I needed to go.
What? What about the I.Q. score? He didn't have time to talk about it any more as he realized he had another appointment or something else he had to do. Apparently he wasn't sure which, but the message was clear: It was time for me to go.
I drifted out of the counselor's office, past the other counselor's door and into the hallway. I realized something had really bothered him when he saw my I.Q. score in the folder and I wondered what it was. I'd later learn that, upon graduation, we could take the school's copy of our file with us. This was what I ended up planning to do.




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