Author: 610rrandtr

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the late 60s race riot in the city. A very dark chapter in our history. My memory of it was that it was actually started by cops arresting black people, after a bunch of white rednecks started a brawl. It wasn’t surprising giving the tenor of the… Continue reading The Race Riot–Death to my Hometown

A bit of the old ultra-violence, my Droogs. Child-on-teacher violence? HA! In those days, teachers straightened you out and you’d sit and take it. Parents shrugged. I’m not so foolish to think that this hadn’t gone on for years all over the country. And we were just middle class nudniks, not battle-hardened kids from the… Continue reading Classroom Violence a la 60s: Teachers on Students

The Gorilla Referee So the Foon hired the retired ex cop, Mr. Brown. A short, old guy with a buzzcut built like a fireplug. He never smiled. Gradually, I realized he, too, had a jag on against rich boys and girls. His job description: break up cliques, ensure everyone found a seat, and remove idle… Continue reading Lunchtime II

If you remember, the cafeteria was in the elementary building, so you had to walk up two flights, cross the bridge, then down 3 flights. I’m sure the stairwell racket invoked images of stampeding cattle. Ya! Get ’em up, Move ’em Out!! Rawhide!!! You have to realize that lunch was a 360-degree change from carrying… Continue reading Ahhhh, Lunch Time: Table Politics

With the coming of the 70’s, we stake our own claim. It just kind of happened organically. Words we just stopped using, new ones taking over. ‘Groovy’–gone. You could use ‘groove’ describing music, but parties, girls, clothes were not groovy. ‘Hip’ was on its way out; in another two years, no one would say it.… Continue reading Time to ditch those 60’s expressions!

Fuck, yea! Some time in early 7th grade, I decided to start swearing. Other kids did it, and I didn’t want to be left behind as some goody goody teacher’s son. After having experienced some of those asinine teachers, you’d swear too, trust me. But as usual, I didn’t use words the old man used.… Continue reading Swearing

“I offered up my innocence, got repaid with scorn.” It took years of accelerating past 7th grade to frame existential questions, most notably why wasn’t I good enough? I had never been looked down on before, just for breathing. Girls giggling in the hall, glancing your way so you knew what the subject was about.… Continue reading Not good enough aka I love Paul Weller and Pete Townshend

Can you imagine this slithering mass of excrement actually having any other job? So of course, we all pass the next quiz and wind up with c’s. The old man makes me write down every tool that I know in the shop and tell him what they are. And make sure I understand what a… Continue reading Shop Class: The Aftermath

The worst teacher ever. The shop teacher was a grizzled old guy awash in wrinkles, coated in a buzz cut. From the first, he made it clear we were shit. He knew few of us would ever use the things he taught–we could care less about making wood boxes or plastic heart necklaces. He told… Continue reading Junior High Shop Class aka A Career of Evil

So we cross the bridge to the elementary building, down the steps into something called ‘Boys Locker Room.’ No such thing in elementary school. You grab a locker and change into your gym clothes. I liked wearing gym shorts under my pants, it made for a quick change. Pull on the clean t shirt when… Continue reading Boy’s Locker Room aka ‘Morrissey, I get you, man’