A Blessing by Any Other Name

The sixth grade was a serious transitional year for me. I changed schools from IW Evans Intermediate to LH Rather Middle school. I joined beginner band. I would rock the trumpet for the next six years. Perhaps most significant was my new English class. I was always pretty smart but now I was recognized. No longer would I be the head of my class bored out of my mind from boring lessons. I was now in Challenge. Challenge, what they called the gifted students class. Typically this replaced English. Now I was an average student in a more...challenging class. And this class was a total shock. I didn't test into it. I didn't apply for it. I was just placed in it. I figured there should have been a formal process or something.

Oh may gosh Challenge was awesome. It was much more casual, almost laissez-faire. I mean there was certainly structure, but we were given a lot more leeway. And the students here were much more well behaved than my previous English classes. More freedom, more challenging work, less distraction, the opportunity to express more creativity. Goldmine. Mrs O'Connor was our teacher and she was cool. She was phony tough though. She had an attitude and expressed pretend demand for order. We could tell she was just playing a role. Portraying the strict hard-ass instructor to a group of upstarts. I think she was just keeping up appearances though because her students in her regular classes swore she was indeed a hard-ass. Maybe we were her favorites, or maybe her years experience showed her that Challenge students thrived in a more hands off environment. Just get our work done. That was the mantra.

Usually we would just have lists of spelling words to memorize and grammar and writing lessons a few days, and our special lessons and projects followed on other days. Much more fun than spending too much time learning about how to diagram a damn sentence or how not to end a sentence with a preposition. That was stuff I didn't like wasting my time on. See what I did there? Haha. I kill me.

Mrs. Hale was my 7^th grade challenge teacher. Only now I think the class was referred to as GT, or Gifted and Talented. Nothing braggadocious about that. Mrs. Hale was also my social studies teacher and she directed me in the one-act-play The Happy Scarecrow. The one where I was the king that made out on stage with Kcee in front of the whole school. So I saw a lot of Mrs. Hale that year.

In social studies we had a mock trial. I got to be the defendant and I had two attorneys. One was a girl named Pam and the other was JC. JC was also in the Happy Scarecrow and we'd spend a lot of time together the next year at Angie's house. Anyway, back to my first sidebar, I was a pretty infamous defendant in my mock trial. I portrayed none other than Ted Bundy. 

Ted Bundy
http://people.com/crime/who-was-ted-bundy-a-look-at-the-serial-killers-trail-of-terror/

I was on trial for the murders of a couple of young women at the Chi Omega sorority house in Florida. At some point I fired Pam so I could get a better seat at my table during trial. We pulled off the upset. The prosecution was not allowed to bring up my previous murder convictions! I, however, was allowed to introduce my dental impressions as evidence. You see, the prosecution made note of “crooked bite marks” on the victims bodies. My pearly whites are pretty straight. Their physical evidence is what got me off. Yeah, I was acquitted. OJ ain't got nothing on me.

By time we got to the 8^th grade Mrs. Koontz was the primary teacher. But they decided to split the classes up and rotate between all three teachers on different days of the week. I don't really remember what the deal was. I think it was something about a different teacher would focusing on a different facet of whatever book we read as a class that six-week period. It made no sense to me at the time and now I really don't remember what that was all about. I was a good student though and we did different projects. We made a paper kite. Shredded perfectly good paper and recycled it and made hard paper for a map. OK, that was stupid. I remember creating my own species of dinosaur while reading Jurassic Park.

When I went to high school freshman year, Mrs. Reece was my new teacher. Now we called the class Search. Unlike Mrs. O'Connor, Mrs. Reece was actually strict and a genuine hard ass. She was no nonsense but taught us a lot I guess. I will say this, her husband was the principal. And both our guidance counselors were related to him as well. There was more nepotism going on than the Trump White house.

We still had our weekly spelling words. We did twice as much reading now though. Each six weeks we read a different classic novel together as a class. We had discussions and quizzes and all that good stuff. But now we also had a list of six books to read by the end of the year. We could read them in any order, we just had to read one per six weeks and had to test on it at the conclusion of the period. Not good for a procrastinator.

We also got assigned our first ever research papers. We had an entire six weeks to research, write, rewrite, and finalize. This was certainly unique to a high school freshman. The topic I chose was US-Japanese trade relations, particularly when it came to patent law. This was inspired by the Michael Crichton novel Rising Sun. I worked hard on that paper and got a “C”. Mrs. Reece told me that that would have been a fantastic paper for an Economics Class, but not for an English class. She also told me that I needed to write something based on classic literature. The assignment only said “literature”, so what the fuck?

Not the best option for an English research paper.
https://www.amazon.com/Rising-Sun-Novel-Michael-Crichton/dp/0345538978

By the second day of my freshman year Mrs. Reece took the initiative to screw me over in science for the remainder of my high school career. You see, freshmen and sophomores were mixed in her class. There were two different classes in two different periods. One of those classes was pretty empty and my class was real full. Not enough students volunteered to alter their schedule so mine got screwed with. I was in Mr. Vaught's Physical Science class. Mr. Vaught had a sterling reputation as a great teacher. His classes were extremely difficult but fun. He had a lot of labs and activities. He really got you engaged in the class and you can tell he had a passion for teaching. If you got an “A” in his class it was because you busted your ass and earned it. But Mrs. Reece changed that. I got switched to a different period and now, a different Physical Science teacher.

Ms. Adams was now my teacher. She was gorgeous. She looked exactly like Keri Wuhrer. The class was mostly trouble makers and below average to average students. Some of these jerks openly sexually harassed her. Eventually she would get them removed from her class. Bright side is that I was the head of the class and it was super easy. Unfortunately I was not prepared at all when I would take Chemistry two years later with Mr. Vaught. That class kicked my ass and was where I received my only failing grade ever for a six week period. Nick K (of Burger King fame) cheated off me in class during tests in Ms. Adams's class. Answer for answer. That's not suspicious. Two students next to each other in class matching each other 100% on their scantrons. 

Ms. Adams took off in the middle of the year for a few weeks. She had eloped. That had never happened before or after in my entire career as a student. At the end of the year her early class got to watch Friday. 

My class didn't watch Friday. We watched Dazed and Confused. 

Quality teacher right there. The only “lab” we did as a class was connecting cheese balls to fucking toothpicks to recreate molecules. Not even good molecules. I'm talking CO2 and H2O. Nothing crazy like C3H8O2 (Propylene glycol).

I don't blame her though. I wouldn't have trusted those students with lithium, butane or glass Erlenmeyer flasks. That was her only year teaching there. To me, she wasn't missed.

Mrs. Reece was my teacher again my sophomore year. Now I was a seasoned vet. I remember the first day very well. Freshman Nick Castle was overly excited in his salutation. He said quite disruptively, “Well hello Mrs. Reece!” She immediately shut him down with a cold, “I don't think that it's very appropriate to speak like that.” He made her list as class jackass. This was good for me, I knew now I wasn't at the bottom of the food chain. He would further cement himself on her list the next semester in the spring when he came to class with his entire head in a white bandage. Seems that Nick thought he could do a back flip into a pool from the side. He greatly over estimated his athletic ability. Now Mrs. Reece was calling him out in front of the whole class for behavior he did in his off time. She told him what he did was stupid. This was true, but a teacher shouldn't say that in front of the whole class. What a bitch move.

In early 1998 Karla Faye Tucker was a hot topic in Texas. She was set to be executed. This would be the first woman executed in a very long time. She also professed her new devotion to Christ as her lord. She found God on death row. I don't think that this is uncommon. There was a class discussion on this. Regardless of whether or not I support the death penalty, I told the class she should be executed. This was a lonely debate for myself. I know there were many conservatives in the class with me, I'm just the only one speaking up, and I'm a liberal! I'm for gender equality, I felt a woman can be executed just as much as a man can be. But Mrs. Reece mentioned that she converted to Christianity and believes in God. I told her that that doesn't matter. Christians are not exempt to punishment. Part of a separation of church and state would surely include there not being a religious preference when doling out punishment. It would also set a precedent that conversion would stay your execution. Why was nobody backing me up on this? Were they afraid to oppose the teacher's point of view? At the conclusion to class Mrs. Reece left the room first to chat with whoever the teacher was in the neighboring classroom. I overheard her saying to her, “I swear, some of these students have never been to church!” Excuse me? I was severely annoyed hearing this. But what am I going to do? I was proud of myself for taking on the teacher all by myself in a purely civil and eloquent manner.

One day late in the school year Mrs. Reece came into the room in tears. Apparently she had called one of the search students a "goofus". That student did not appreciate being called stupid and told her parents who then reported Mrs. Reece. Mrs. Reece was crying and told us to please come to her if she ever did anything to upset a student. No thanks. I would let nearly anything go personally, but if I felt compelled to complain about her behavior she would be the last person I would want to speak to about it.

I learned from my freshman year to stick to the classics for my research paper. This year I would do Edgar Allen Poe's short story called The Pit and the Pendulum. My topic was comparing capital punishment today, particularly in Spain, to that of the Spanish Inquisition. I thought outside the box dammit. I worked hard on this and learned so much about Spanish judicial culture. This paper was damn good. I got a “C”. She said this would have been an excellent criminal justice study or perhaps be fine in a course about religion in the renaissance period. She told me to stick with something more conventional and not so abstract. Jeepers creepers. I felt so annoyed but there was no way in hell I was going to be a student that does another fucking redundant research paper comparing Miller's The Crucible to McCarthy's red scare. Talk about trite garbage. Isn't Search supposed to be exceptional? About allowing outstanding students to do unique academic works worthy of genuine praise? Not recycling the same bullshit that's been done to death?

Visual depiction of  the Pit and the Pendulum.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pit_and_the_Pendulum

Several years later when I was in an advanced history class (either History of the French Revolution or Medieval History?) trying to finish my minor, several students were complaining about their teacher. Most history majors also major in education. They said the teacher's name was Mrs. Reece. Oh my gosh. I told them she taught me for two years in high school. I asked what her offense was. They told me that she told them that they had to watch out for individuals. Students that fancied themselves unique are less likely to conform. They tend to be disruptive and hard to control, difficult to mold. She basically told them to try and straighten them out early. When that fails don't waste too much time fixing them. They are lost causes. It's best to focus on the normal kids.

They all agreed that this was a bullshit philosophy. I told them that that was definitely my Mrs. Reece. She can be a good teacher but if you annoy her, you are done. She had little cause to encourage creativity.

Mr. Gatling taught the junior Search kids. He was a pleasant fellow. One assignment had us do a mock trial. I wasn't the defendant this time. Now I was an expert witness. I was a psychiatrist. I went all in and gave my self an identity. I was Dr. Hans Neusberger (named after my great-uncle/godfather). I printed up a fake degree and certificates and the whole nine yards. I don't remember what the trial was about, other than it was tied to some book we read. Perhaps it was In Cold Blood? I don't remember the outcome either. I just remember that it was fun.

In honor of Pearl Harbor Day in December, all the search students in the school put together different projects to honor World War II vets. I interviewed a European front vet at a local VFW and wrote an article about it. I also partnered with a classmate named Ryder. We created a map of that same European front and used toy plastic soldiers to signify allied and axis locations, strength of numbers etc. I was also a trumpet player in a small band we threw together that would play patriotic songs. But I had a problem. My appendix burst. I had my mom bring my map to school while my dad took me to Dr. Schreiber. I was in no condition to play in the band. My mom sent word of that to the teachers as well. I heard from students when I returned that Mrs. Knight, the senior search teacher, was livid. She wanted me to get my ass to the school even if I was in a wheel chair on IV fluids. Mr. Gatling stood up for me and told her off. If I was absent, I must be in dire shape. They got a replacement player, Stuart K who wasn’t in Search, to step in and be the hero. I missed the rest of the semester, but Christmas break was two weeks later so it wasn't too bad.

The only thing I remember about second semester was when I had to get my second surgery. We were assigned our research papers and had six weeks to complete. During this period the class would have normal lessons along with time to go to the library for information gathering. Right before spring break I had my surgery and was out two weeks again. I begged and pleaded with Mr. Gatling for an extension on my paper. He refused. He realized I had lost two-weeks research time and preparation. But in college I would not be granted an extension. College? This was junior year of high school. Two-weeks behind, I had to hustle and work my ass off to come up with a great paper. Having learned my lessons the previous two years, I went with a more conventional source material and topic. It was definitely easier. Still pretty dark though. I wrote of the similarities between Bram Stoker's timeless Dracula to the real life tyrant Vlad Tepes. Not quite as overdone as comparing Crucible to the Red Scare, but still not really unique. But my hands were kind of tied. I was running out of time. I think I got a B-. Not great, but my best grade on a research paper. I still think I should have been given at least another week or so. Was I expected to do research in the fucking hospital? I didn’t have a laptop let alone WiFi. This was bullshit. I passed though, so whatever.

Vlad Tepes (c. 1560)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vlad_the_Impaler

At the end of the school year it was announced that the Search program would be done away with for seniors. Instead, they would have AP English in conjunction with Grayson County Community College. Students would receive duel credit for high school and college. How much this would cost was not explained very well to me. The class was going to cost something like $40 an hour. I had no idea that a class was considered 3 hours. This would have been about $120. I thought they meant literally “per hour”. 36 weeks of school, 5 classes a day. That would have run like $7,200. Jeepers! College was really expensive.

So I dropped out of Search and would now go back to regular English. I heard that Mrs. Reece, who was teaching that class instead of Mrs. Knight, graded harsher than the Community College teacher. An A for Community College could get a C for the same paper for High School. Glad I was no longer dealing with that nonsense.

So I ended up being taught by Mrs. Knight anyway. Despite her fight with Mr. Gatling the year before, she was awesome. I was head of the class again. It was easy but certainly not boring. I loved reading Canterbury Tales and even liked Wuthering Heights. We even read Macbeth and watched the 1970's film production made by...Playboy?

In my spare time I even dabbled in poetry and felt confident enough in sharing my collection with Mrs. Knight. She liked it and encouraged me to enter one of my poems into a statewide competition. I did and ended up placing 2^nd in the State of Texas in the 17 to 18 year-old division. I got a whole page in a published book and a $50 savings bond. I promptly took that bond to the bank and cashed it out for $25. I needed that money for college, screw waiting five years. Even in college I would write “songs” for my pretend band. I haven't seriously written poetry in about twelve years now.

I did miss having opportunities for creative writing or long form essays. It was nice being the best student in a class of “normals” again. As opposed to being an average student amongst the gifted kids.

GT classes were certainly a great positive experience for me. It wasn't separating the wheat from the chaff. It gave exceptional students an hour a day to be among just their peers and do work and studies that were more our level. It challenged us. We were less likely to be bored. It was never an ego thing with me. I always felt fortunate to be considered a bright student. And it was additional encouragement that I was at worst average in those classes, at times outstanding. For somebody that didn't normally conform to the conventional, institutionalized praise was ethereal. I craved and thrived on academic flattery.

###

Me the Summer before I met the infamous Mrs. Reece. 1996

If I had to pick a single song to be the soundtrack to this post it would be...

Added bonus. My award winning poem.

Earth: EPILOGUE

We go to decaffeinated schools
We live our gourmet lives
We build dreams of grandiose
We abandon them with immune apathy

Be cautious of chocolate destinies
Be cautious of lies spiced with charm
Be cautious of seductive leaches
Be cautious of your phony, cozy lives

But I know that I have triumphed
But I know that I cannot pretend

That my life is special, or that it's mine
That my life will not shatter like concrete

The guillotine is about to drop
The firing squad is cocked and ready
The hangman's noose is tied
The chair is already juiced

Beware the apocalypse
Beware of a dog known as Lucifer
Beware of the sanctuary found in darkness
Beware of the final chapter's close