So Son's last day of school this term is Thursday. Last night the sixth grade band did their final concert. Went very well. They're a lot better than I remember school bands being.
The end of term got me to remembering a few of my own - from waaaaaaay back.
Probably, the one I recall with the greatest amusement is the end of my Freshman year. I learned an important lesson that day.
It was the final day of school, so none of the teachers were having their classes do anything useful. Why we even bothered to come the last day was something of a mystery, but I was glad to be there. You see, it was my last chance to tell Vicki how I felt about her.
I had met Vicki during winter of seventh grade. In January, the boys and girls physical education classes merged, and instead of doing exercises and things like that, we did square dancing. It was a form of forced socialization, I guess. (Just realized something. In my book, Swords of Fire: Traitor, the family has monthly bonfire dances in which this very thing is done. Now I know where the inspiration came from. Interesting. To me.)
Anyway, I wasn't keen on the dancing until I chanced to dance with Vicki. I was enraptured from the start. She, of course, had no feelings whatsoever toward me. On a good day. On a regular day she probably didn't like me at all. You see, I was the class clown.
But I didn't tell her how I felt. Not during the dance and not after. Then I didn't tell her all through eighth grade. Kept promising myself that I would, but the closer I came to her the more my fear became an immobilizing monster I could not fight. And my silence rang through the school's halls.
By the end of my Freshman year she knew to some degree. Others had figured it out and spread the word. One even told me her reaction when she was told. She had made a face and said something unflattering. Of course, that just did wonders for helping me overcome my fear. Still, I promised myself I would at least talk to her this school year. Turns out I had lied to myself. It was the last day and I had yet to speak to her. Had opened my mouth. Happened to be standing next to her one day. She had her back to me. I opened my mouth to say something when she turned around. No sound came out. I just stood there with my mouth open looking like the very idiot she took me for. I still remember her reaction. She paused, looking at me. Then she shook her head and made a sound of exasperation and walked away.
So now it's the final day of the school year. After this day I shall have to wait until September to try again. Assuming she doesn't move away. But it was all to plain to me that I had no courage in the matter, and no words would be spoken. So I was crabby.
We were having a party in English class. Everyone but me was having a good time. I was snappy, and my classmates were avoiding me. Except for Kevin. Kevin was one of those unguarded people who was always in a good mood - even when he wasn't. Life was good to Kevin. Very good. I remember in college, when he and I were shooting pool in the commons area, two girls came and began playing on the table next to us. Wanting to meet the one girl, I used Kevin's confidence to make the introduction. Kevin would end up marrying the girl.
Well, I don't even know how it came about, but suddenly, I was snapping at Kevin in the middle of the room. Now I was the tallest in the class, but Kevin was only a few inches shorter than me. And he had me by at least thirty pounds. And Kevin was not a person to be afraid or intimidated by anything. Not even a surly boy who was itching for a fight. Kevin responded the way Kevin always responded. He got in my face.
Big mistake, Kevin, I was thinking. You just gave me what I wanted. A chance to do something really physical and get this out of my system. The posturing began.
Now Kevin was not a fighter. He was big. And strong enough, I guess. But the only other fight I knew he had been in he had broken his wrist hitting someone in the face. He didn't concern me. I had never lost a fight to anyone. Even when I took on multiple foes at once. Kevin had picked the wrong guy to be brave to.
Kevin must have learned something from his broken wrist because he didn't start of hitting. But then hitting wasn't Kevin's style anyway. He simply came up against me and began pushing me with his whole body. Well, I wasn't going to stand for that, so I set my feet, determined to show him my strength.
We were standing on a tiled floor. This mean that, even wearing tennis shoes, I found myself sliding across the room like a light piece of furniture. Kevin was heavier than me. I had no leverage against his superior weight, and suddenly I found myself pushed against the heat registers (now pushing out cool air). And Kevin kept coming, squishing me.
This was unexpected, and I was more than a little annoyed at my inability to stop Kevin. But I had a weapons Kevin did not. And in my surly, selfish, self-loathing mood, I used my best weapon from the get go. I hit him as hard as I could three times in quick succession, right in the guts. I was ready to stand over my victim in triumph. I had not been in a fight since fourth grade, when I told myself I would never fight again. (I lied about that too, it seems.)
To my dismay, Kevin's reaction was no reaction whatsoever. He didn't even flinch. It was like I hadn't hit him. But he must have realized I had because he said, "Okay, Bevie. What is it? You want to fight? I'll fight if you want to fight. Is that what you want to do, Bevie?"
Well it had been what I wanted to do, but now I had changed my mind. I found myself looking around the room. Where was the teacher? Why wasn't she over here stopping this? Surely she wasn't going to let us just brawl? What kind of teacher was she anyway?
To my relief she had just realized what was going on and came to my rescue by yelling at the two of us. We were sent out of the room with instructions to find the vice-principal and tell him why we were in trouble. We did. He asked what the fight was about and neither Kevin or I knew. He knew we were friends and laughed us us and told us to get back to class.
On the way back Kevin talked like it was no big deal. In his mind the fight was forgotten and we were friends again. I bet he's still that way. He's a lot better man than I. He always was.
So, my lesson? Never underestimate an opponent. Overweight people are tougher than they look. Don't get overconfident about my own ability.
I lost that fight, but I never took a punch.
Thank God.
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