Check out Michelle's post on the puberty lesson and make sure you watch the YouTube video from 1957 - it's a classic!
After reading her post, I felt it was the perfect time to put up this poem I wrote recently about my experience as a grade/high school kid in Gym Class. I'm sure some of you will relate to those woeful times, especially if, like me, you were an uncoordinated little pipsqueak who couldn't play sports to save her life.
I remember the knot, like it was yesterday,
In the pit of my gut as the clock ticked away.
What did they have planned to sadistically mock me,
This day was it parallel bars or floor hockey?
I stood in my gym-suit, that evil creation,
That tugged at my tush and revealed no inflation
Of training-bra hidden beneath the blouse, blue,
And waited as captains, to their pals were true.
No gain, being gangly and short with no speed;
It came down to me and the chubby of breed.
Then filled full of dread I’d join up with a line-
To await the embarrassment soon to be mine.
On fields I was feckless at throw or at catch,
And hacking a stick- every time, met my match.
With each opportunity, playing at ball,
I’d go for outfield, ‘til not in field at all.
Gymnastics. What lunatic made up this game,
For kids, with knock-knees and a far-from-grown frame?
Pain up your crotch would shoot straight if you split
On the beam they call balance – (I had none of it).
Nights, full of tossing and turning, of course,
Preceded the punishing day of box-horse.
A vault from the platform and over they’d glide;
I’d balk like a mule and bang into the side.
So scared of the high-jump was I, come the Spring,
I’d hide ‘neath my desk in the class, quivering,
But worst had to be the dark days of ball, dodge;
The smack of the rubber, a tooth could dislodge.
Now that I’m older and wise, I look back;
Name-calling and smirks seem much less an attack.
I recall after changing we went back to class,
Where my brains beat their brawn and I sure kicked some *** !
Kathleen Mortensen © 2008