That Boy, Jacob, began his middle school career this morning--a little earlier than he has become accustomed to since school let out and he's dead on his feet right now. Actually, he was out like trout and had to be steered to his own bed. No first day of school photos this time.
That's Jake (l) with the double barrel, cousin Willie (looks like Hank Sr), and The House Blonde at Big Nose Kate's Saloon in Tombstone (formerly the Grand Hotel) a story for another day. Big Nose Kate was Doc Holliday's lover. No, she did not have a big nose. Photo Credit to Uncle Will.
Junior High, Intermediate, Middle School, all the same. It means you aren't a little kid no more.
TWC doesn't have much recall of 7th grade except clear yet brief flutters of longing when a certain tall scrawny flute player would cross my vision. I was mightily smitten but remained silent.
There was also the sadistic math teacher who routinely dwarf-tossed the boys across the classroom at the slightest provocation. They'd often bounce into the instrument room (Alamitos Intermediate was crowded and math was in the band room). Mr Justice was his name. Ironic, eh? My dad toned that down to a dull roar. Teacher'd done hard time these days.
Alamitos Intermediate is where I became acquainted with El Jeronimo de Crow. We were the Condors before anyone knew what the hell a Condor was. Although we were friends, neither he nor the flute player, actually spoke to me until a couple of years later.
And the eighth grade boys had the timing down. Like clockwork, every day there was some naive, unsuspecting seventh grader, diddy-bopping out of the locker room that ended up pantsed as he walked past the spot where the eighth grade girls lined up. They'd try not to snicker as he stood there red-faced and mortified, gym shorts down around his knees, jock strap exposed to the afternoon breeze.
Worst of all, my terminally clueless mother had me try on the jock strap a couple of days before school started to make sure it fit. Jesus Chrysler, who isn't scarred for life after modeling a Bike Athletic Supporter for his mother?
My son is gregarious and never met a stranger. His first day went well. I keep reminding him that the kid who is going to offer him a Marlboro, the Bud Lite, or the dope is somebody he already knows and likes. I really don't want my kids to go to Junior High. Keep telling him he don't want that nicotine monkey no how. Doubt he'll get pantsed though.
Bonus. Ironic, eh?:
If you can't see it, the vid is here.