I have no idea how many of my old school mates will remember this, but it is a lesson that has stuck in mind for around thirty seven years give or take a year. I had the privilege of attending school in a small panhandle West Texas community. It was, and is a speck on the map, and it’s not located on a highway that goes to anywhere. OK I will now find out if anyone from Seagraves, nine miles west, Wellman, ten miles north, or Welch, nineteen miles east reads my blog, because I just insulted them by saying their little town is nowhere. They can take comfort in the fact that at least their nowhere town is located on a highway that goes so somewhere.

Alright, now I know you are all confused so I’ll get back to the lesson learned.  The Loop Independent School District is in one of many small farming communities in West Texas. At the time, Loop had a small grocery store, two gas stations, two churches, one is church of Christ, and the other is Baptist. We also had a cotton gin, a community building, a post office, of course the school, and one stop sign. Dad used to say if you yawned while driving through Loop you would miss it.

My class was one of the largest to ever graduate from Loop High as far as I know.  I have been telling people for years that I graduated in a class with sixteen, of which I ranked number eight. I recently discovered that my story had been wrong all these years, and I guess it was an unconscious effort on my part to feel better about myself. The way I see it number eight out of sixteen put me right in the middle. Seems I have always been kind of a middle of the road guy, so I was comfortable being eight of sixteen. My mom blew by comfort out of water on Christmas day by giving me all of my High School yearbooks. As I looked at my senior year photos I began to realize that I had been living a lie most of my life, and I need to repent, and confess to all the people who think more highly of me than they should. …this is so difficult for me to say… (swallows hard)…turns out our class only graduated fifteen people. Now I am faced with the reality that after all these years thinking I was a middle of the road guy, I am actually below average. I was number eight out of fifteen…a looser. Kent stop chas’n rabbits and get on with the point of the story.  

Oh yes the point of the story. Because of the small size of our classes and the schedule of PE class, we sometimes found ourselves combining classes for one reason or another. That is what had happened on this particular day. The girls PE was always the class before the lunch break, while the boys PE was the last class of the day. Well, we, the boys, had already had History class that day, but  for some reason we ended up having to go to the girls History class too. Now I ain’t say’n that Mr. Williams wasn’t a good teacher, but you know if you’ve heard about the Charlemagne Dynasty once why listen to it again?  Maybe the boys below number eight in the class needed it again, but I had it down well enough to make a seventy, and that’s about all that junk meant to me.

Well, since us boys had no interest in listening again we began talking a little amongst ourselves.  Mr. Williams would look up every now and then and tell us to be quiet. Then he would tell Derris Shults, “Derris keep that pencil in your mouth.” It was nothing new for Derris to have a pencil his mouth; he always had a pencil in his mouth. It just now dawned on me why he always had a pencil in his mouth. Derris, unless it was absolutely unavoidable, never used the restroom at school. It had to have been one of those “bite on this to kill the pain” sort of things that tough guys do while sowing their thumb back on their own hand after losing it while gutt’n a deer. Git out of the way rabbit, your interrupting the story!

Sorry. So, Mr. Williams must have told us to be quiet a dozen times during the class, and every time he told us to be quiet he told Derris to keep that pencil in his mouth. Now dog-gone-it, I’ve got to chase this rabbit. Derris, if you are reading this give me a call, I think we may be able to sue Mr. Williams cause that pencil was probably painted with leaded paint. If you are feeling woozy call now! 1-800-IWILLSUE. I ain’t no lawyer but anybody can win this one. OK, I know you understand that interruption, I mean a man’s gotta make a living.

Now the class is finally over and it is time for the boys PE class. We all made our way to the locker room, and changed into our PE cloths which consisted of three pieces of thin cloth. One of which was a jock strap which has no material at all on ones drearier. I know you are with me on where this is going. Mr. Williams was also known as…Coach Williams. (Cue the music, dun,dun,dun) Coach Williams walked into the locker room with a nice little piece of wood, and instructed us to bend over and touch our toes. That is, he told everyone but Derris to bend over and touch their toes.

Yup, we ran a little faster in track that day in an effort to cool down our southern regions if you know what I mean. But not Derris. That pencil held tightly between his smiling lips had kept him quiet, and safe. You know, a man in the bottom half of his class is a little slow sometimes. It has taken most of my life for me to realize that my alligator mouth can easily get my fruit fly rear end in trouble.   

As for Coach Williams…well he got his…in the form of a draft notice from Uncle Sam. We sent him off proper though. Mike Boggan made up a song to the tune of Is Anybody Go’n to San Antonio (If you will put your ear close to the screen I’ll hum the tune for you.) Here are the words::

Is anybody go’n to Viet Nam

Or far off South Korea

Any place is alright as long as I

Can forget I’ve got di..re…oh…never mind )   

Till next time,

Grump