36
It turned out I had been fortunate that gym class showers had become
opt-in when we started sixth grade, because now I didn't have to
come-up with some explanation why I would no longer take them. And
in fact, had I participated in sixth grade, there may have been some
obvious differences between me and the rest of the boys that might
have been immediately apparent and have brought unexpected scrutiny.
In the previous two years the gym teacher had distinguished himself
by providing us a nice variety of activities and introducing us to
many different sports than we wouldn't otherwise have gotten to try
out on our own. One was likely something many students got to do
which was running a lap around the field. In our case the gym
teacher had us group together, first the boys, then with the girls
behind us and we started our run. By the time we reached the far
side of the field, the rest of the boys were pulling away from me and
the girls were falling behind. By the third corner of the field, the
boys had all left me in the dust and I did the last long leg of the
run alone, between the group of boys ahead of me and the group of
girls behind me. When I reached the end of the run the gym teacher
gave me this long, strange look.
Another time he and the assistant coach had set-up an obstacle course
in the gym. We were shown the route and every twist and turn to
take, items to go under versus things to go over. And he had us go
one by one, each starting a couple minutes after the previous so we
would have enough space between us so one wouldn't have to wait for
the one before. When it came my turn, I did the course and all the
appropriate twists and turns. I thought I'd done everything right,
but once done and returning to the benches, rather than pay attention
to the kids going through the course after me, the coach again gave
me that long, strange look as if he suspected
something. If he did, I never found out about it, though at the same
time I was left wondering about those two occasions.
The final side note concerning school itself was from the tail end of
the school year. Between classes I went to my locker one day to
exchange books only to find the padlock cut off, apparently with a
bolt cutter, and my locker ransacked. I went straight to the
office to report it and they told me they already knew...
And yet hadn't let me know? I asked about the details but they
wouldn't tell me anything beyond they already knew and it
had been taken care of. Again, it had been taken care of yet my
padlock was destroyed and my locker in disarray? I wasn't feeling
very taken care of. I asked to see the Principal.
The Principal had been the new Vice Principal when I had joined
the school in first grade. As the elementary wing had its own main
office that was no longer used as such, it was provided to him as his
office. Over my elementary school years, I had often seen him in the
hallway and nodded respectfully to him and occasionally said ''Hi''
when passing by him on my own. By around seventh grade the Principal
retired and the Vice Principal moved up the ladder. Given my years
of seeing him and saying ''Hi'' from time to time, I felt like I knew
him and as such, I was comfortable requesting to talk to him even
though I was a lowly student.
The office staff was startled by this request and went into his
office to talk to him, then the secretary emerged and said I could
see him first thing the following morning to talk about it. I did
show up and met with him at the appointed time. I told him of the
locker incident, he already knew and wanted to know what I had
wanted. I asked for some details and he explained that a student
said he had locked himself out of his locker and asked the shop
teacher to borrow the bolt cutters. The shop teacher let him and
they didn't realize he had used it for my locker until after the
fact. He wasn't going to say who the student was, but assured me it
was taken care of. Was there anything else? I
recommended that in the future they verify who's locker it is before
allowing the bolt cutters to be used. He agreed and assured me that
a policy had now been put in place to guard against that happening
again. I also mentioned that I had not been informed of the
incident, just went to my locker to discover it for myself; I
recommend that for something like this the student should be notified
once the office staff finds out. He agreed it had been an oversight
and they would add that to their procedures. Then I pointed out that
I was out of a padlock and asked if the school would be reimbursing
me for it. The Principal thought about this for a bit, then said I
could use one of the standard issue school padlocks without placing a
deposit for it. While it didn't make the situation whole, as
technically the school padlock would only be a loaner till the end of
the term, I agreed to that as the Principal had shown me the respect
of meeting with me to discuss the issue. The meeting ended and I
felt it had gone very well. As the only stutter in school, it was a
given that I might be shown less than full respect, but he had
left me feeling fully respected. I like to think that this
encounter with him, showing that I had a thoughtful side and could
discuss issues as an adult, was one of the contributing reasons why
he let me keep the 'Intro To Algebra' class card for my coming high
school year, against the recommendations of the adviser. Ultimately
I will never know for sure.
At the branch grocery store, it turned out, not only was I no longer
in charge of the beer case and stocking its shelves, but I was also
no longer allowed to bag groceries or be the temporary relief
cashier. It was felt those activities were too visible through the
large glass windows at the front of the store and I ''might be seen
by somebody.'' I guess the fear was the State Labor Inspector would
be minding his own business, driving by on the street, glimpse me
through the window working at the store, and slam on his brakes to
file a report...? After four years of working at the store,
starting out wrapping meat and produce and working my way up to
stocker and relief cashier, I was increasingly dispirited by now
being curtailed and hidden away in my fifth year. By the end of
eighth grade, I had phased-out working at the grocery store and
subsisted on my Summer lawn mowing income at the meat cutter's house.
This left me with more free time during the Summer days and I spent
many of them visiting my new friend Luke and often taking bike rides
with him around the more rural south end of town.
As fate would have it, the lawn mowing job came to a surprise end by
the middle of that August. I don't know why or what happened, I just
know that my mother was the one to tell me and she scrambled to find
me another lawn mowing job to replace it, I guess in fear that I
might start showing up at the store again on Sundays and cramp her
and the store owner's activities. I
was to now handle the lawn at a retired couple's home.
They kept a larger area mowed than the meat cutter had, but their
lawn was proper grass, not a mix of wild grass and cut back hay. The
husband had reached the point where he had become too frail to
continue mowing it himself using his riding mower and spent the first
week teaching me how to use the mower and showing me the cut pattern
he had been using over the years. A riding mower was a nice change
of pace and saved me from the excessive sweat I was getting that
summer doing the meat cutter's yard using a walk behind mower while
wearing the ACE bandage around my chest. But this new job only
lasted a month as the husband died early into September and his widow
only had me mow the yard a final time two weeks later to prepare for
the Fall season.
My mother needn't have feared, though, as I had gotten use to not
working at the store on Sundays during the previous year's fall and
winter breaks from mowing. With neither the income from working at
the grocery store or from mowing, I started to use the money I had
saved up at the bank in the previous three years for my spending
money during my last year living at the apartment.
During my eighth grade year, my not as older brother had worn out his
welcome living with my eldest brother and his girl friend. Mother
explained that my eldest brother had moved to a smaller apartment
that didn't have a spare bedroom as a hint that my not as
older brother wouldn't be able to join them at the new apartment.
For whatever reason, the split came. My not as older brother again
returned to living with my father at the family home, though this
time, he decided not to move back into the bedroom that had
originally been my eldest brother's, the one he had moved into after
my eldest brother had left. He got himself a used, larger bed and
moved into the empty bedroom that had originally been my sister's and
then my mother's for the three years my parents had slept apart while
in the same house. My own bedroom at the family home remained the
bedroom I had inherited from my not as older brother years earlier
and still used it twice a week when I'd stay over with my father on
his days off. Though, without mother living there to tend to it, my
sheets were getting a bit gamey and the room a bit dusty. I
would have to learn how to wash my own stuff and clean house,
I feared.
My not as older brother returned to working at the main grocery
store, though this time, rather than save up money for another term
at College, he decided to buy a car and plan a permanent move out
west. As the job prospects in the rural west near my sister had
turned out a bit thin, he decided this time to move to a place that
was sure to have plenty of jobs, yet be near plenty of skiing as
well: The City Of Denver. As the start of Summer of Nineteen
Seventy-Eight came, he packed-up his belongings tightly into his
small compact car and drove off. First with a trip through lower
Canada, then south to visit my sister, then to Colorado.
His move would turn out to be pivotal to my life.
