A lot of factors shape who we are and who we become. As a parent, it’s easier to recognize those factors sometimes because we focus on how to give our kids the experiences and support and guidance to become the people we want or think they should be. But kids, we just spent our formative years living in and soaking up those moments. They were our experiences, for better or worse, and they’ve no doubt had an impact on who we’ve become. Maybe it all went well and we used those experiences to solidify what we had been taught. Or maybe things didn’t go as planned and we used the experiences to guide us away from the path we didn’t want to go down. They generally fill us with love or hate, good or bad morals or sometimes, unfortunately, just emptiness. Either way, that’s just how it works most of the time. We are given the path and we make it better or worse with the decisions we make.
That path starts for the most part at birth. But as for memories and events we use years later, that starts for most of us somewhere around 5 years old, I would guess. I have some memories of before 5 but they are random and not very vivid. I remember when I cracked my head open when I was about 3-4 and a couple of the moments surrounding that but it’s been kept alive in stories since. We remember the really good and the really bad but a lot of the in-between is lost from our lives before 5 unless they remain in some story form that has been manipulated over the years by our own interpretations. But, I am talking about legitimate “I remember when” moments in time.
At 5 for me, I began my long and winding, and often disastrous, educational journey. The year was 1982. I would not finish that journey until 2011, some 29 years later. Yeah, I took the long road. I don’t know if I’m even finished but I am counting on that being the case at this point. But in 1982, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was time to get started with that big part of life and I did just that at Mitchell County Elementary School. I have much more vivid memories of middle school and high school but when I really sit and think about those early years, some really nostalgic and character forming memories are there. With some of the things that stick out, it makes a little sense why I am paranoid of getting in trouble or doing the wrong things sometimes. And for me, a big part of this writing process is figuring out how I got where I am today. These old thoughts of elementary school have given me some insight, although my interpretations are in control.
Elementary school for me was good overall. I had a pretty good time making friends and was received well by my peers. That is so often out of our control and left to the ability of other 5 years old to be accepting. I was lucky that I had a fairly reasonable set of peers, for the most part. It could be because of the town I grew up in or the school itself. A lot of people in Camilla had similar backgrounds; similar income levels and we faced the normal social issues burdened on society. But as a 5 year old, that stuff didn’t really matter. The car Michael’s mom drove didn’t faze me. The house that Bryan lived in didn’t matter to me whatsoever. Joe and I even had different skin color and that meant absolutely nothing. We were all friends. It’s a novel concept isn’t it? We had the same goals, we had the same needs, and we had the same affinity for Transformers and G.I. Joe. And none of us liked girls at that point in our lives, except maybe Jason. I think he was a lady’s man from birth.
Friends come and go at that age too as people grow up, move to other schools, take different paths or just seemingly disappear into thin air. But sometimes, those kids stick with you from Kindergarten through Graduation and you have a bond for the rest of your life, whether realized or not. I can still go back to my hometown and run into people I grew up with and we remember each other as the person we last saw before growing up. Most of us have put on some weight and aren’t as athletic as we used to be but you can often see that young person in them and yourself when you have those interactions. I now live in Lee County and when my alma mater played here a couple of years ago, I ambled over to the visitors sideline to see old friends. One of my Lee County friends went with me and remarked after the excursion that I should go back to Camilla and run for mayor. I’m not a political fellow but that said a lot to me about the old bridges I had been able to keep intact and it made me feel proud.
That all started at a little school in the back of a part of town that some people never visited. But as division has taken more of a stronghold on society, that is probably truer now than it was then. I ride by there on occasion though just to see the old building. It usually makes me smile. Life was simpler. The school was your standard, run of the mill, elementary school. Classes were K-3, we had a couple of playgrounds, a gym, library and a lunchroom/theater combo. Nothing spectacular but certain locations of the school still stand out in my memory. I remember the track. It was an all dirt/grass track and surrounded a make shift football field. Behind that was our kickball/softball field. My grandmother, Pearl, worked in the lunchroom. She cooked a lot better at home than she did at school. The gym was where I learned that gymnastics was not going to be my specialty, although I tried. There were some outdoor basketball courts where I started to develop my very slow, but deadly, jump shot. Near those were the music rooms, where my Aunt Carolyn was a teacher. I had an in with her of course but she was one of the most genuine and enthusiastic teachers I ever had. And, of course, her son Corey was my best friend in elementary school. There was also a walk up store at the entrance of the school that was open before and after to stock up on snacks. The only snack area I remember on campus was on the third grade hall. That’s where I was introduced to the Bomb Pop. 
I remember the teachers too. Mrs. Fears was my Kindergarten teacher. I don’t have any specific memories of her class because I think my memory maker was still forming. Then, I had Mrs. Williams in 1st Grade, Mrs. Wingate in 2nd and Mrs. Parker in 3rd. I’ve had an indirect relationship with Mrs. Williams for many years since 1st grade. Two of her sons, Travis and Tori were right around my age and I knew them throughout school. Then I played basketball with her husband, Mr. Charlie James, for a few years in high school on Tuesday and Thursday nights. And not to be outdone, I worked for about 10 years with another of her sons, Trent, in adulthood. They could never really get away from me, I guess. Mrs. Wingate was my first, “Wow, she’s pretty!” teacher. And Mrs. Parker got most of my deviant side as I pushed the limits before moving on to middle school. Of course, Mr. Inman was a memorable principal. He was tall and intimidating and had a habit of carrying around a paddle with holes in it to cut down on resistance. Do schools even have paddles anymore? The staff I probably got to know best was Mrs. Ward, the school nurse. I began honing my Ferris Bueller moments early.
We were introduced to fire and tornado drills in Elementary school. The fire drill never scared me but the tornado drill was horrifying. There wasn’t a safe place in my mind to escape such an event. Thankfully, we practiced it and never had to put it into real use. I do remember bad weather in school though and I always had that drill bell sound in my head, thinking it would go off at any time. It’s the first time I remember thinking something dangerous could happen and my parents wouldn’t be around. It probably seems insignificant but looking back on it, it prepared me for something I was very afraid of while giving me the idea that my parents wouldn’t always be standing right beside me when something went wrong. That was the first realization I had of that. In the long run, it was for the best but it’s one of those small moments that I have carried with me.
Another bad memory was that smell of the “oil dry” they put down when students vomited in the hallway. There is no real profound meaning or moment here but I remember it had the potential to set off a mass vomit fest much like that in the “Stand by Me” film. If I wasn’t sick, I could see that in the hall floor and would immediately get queasy. I was also a little scared of it. It was almost like the stuff they put down made it a biohazard. So maybe there is a meaning behind it. I am a bit of a hypochondriac so maybe that can be traced back to my fear of a vomit induced outbreak at elementary school thanks to the horrible smelling biohazard they put down in the halls. Maybe, maybe not.
Ok, I am about to say something that may surprise some of you. It hurts to say but it’s true. I have not always been the innocent, good boy that I am now as an adult. I know, take a minute to collect yourself. There are three specific instances from elementary school that stick out to me where I pushed the boundaries of truth. I got busted all three times. I have no doubt there were more than three, but three stick out still today. My dad has always told me that he would find out anything I ever did because that’s what parents do. I could think I was getting away with something but they would know. Well, he was either right or I was really bad at it. There is another story for another time that fits this narrative from when I was a teenager. I carried that one around for several years trying to figure out how my dad found out, but I digress.
The first one was in 2nd grade. I remember getting sent out into the hallway for being disruptive. I called it being humorous but the teacher called it disruptive. Tomato/Tomahto if you ask me. If you will recall, Mr. Inman has already been mentioned as having a habit of carrying around the “widow maker” paddle. He would walk up and down the main hall sometimes and if you were in the hall for being in trouble, you were getting a lick or two. It was the first time I had been sent into the hallway so I was in a panic. I looked down the long 2nd grade hall and waited for Mr. Inman to appear. In a moment of clarity, I devised a plan. I’ll walk a short distance down the hall, approximately the length of the classroom, then switch to the other side of the hall and walk back. I would do this until I was called back into class so if Mr. Inman walked past that hall, he would think I was going to the restroom or coming back. Fool proof isn’t it? Well, my stay in the hall was longer than expected and while it did work the first time he walked by, it did not the second time a couple minutes later when I was walking in the same general area he had seen me before. Busted. He came down the hall, the plan was foiled and I got my licks. I made it worse by not taking my punishment the right way. I got it at home too.
Then came the 2nd incident in 3rd grade. I was older and wiser by this point and I had caught up with Mr. Inman’s tactics. This one was worse though and I don’t even know how I came up with this one. Parents could pick up students around 2:30 and then the pick-up area closed for the buses around 2:45. I rode the bus over to the middle school where I would get off there and walk to the Methodist Church where my mom worked. In an extreme lapse in judgment, I told Mrs. Parker that my mom was picking me up. The kids getting picked up went out to the playground until their parents picked them up. My plan was to get in some swing time and then hop on the bus unnoticed to head to the middle school. Would you believe that it worked the first time? But I got greedy. Mr. Inman went out to the 3rd grade hall and saw me swinging. “Don’t panic!” I said to myself. “He thinks you are getting picked up, don’t worry.” He disappeared onto the 3rd grade hall. He would not reappear until the buses were pulling up and I was headed to my assigned bus. Again, solid plan but poor execution. You know what happened next.
The last incident was not related to Mr. Inman as I believe I had by then conceded to his principal super abilities. This time, I decided to try my hand at deception with my parents and Mrs. Parker. This one stung the most. I was never the best student when it came to homework. However, I was pretty good at scraping it together at the last minute. I would carry that skill over to High School where homeroom the day of was homework time. But in elementary school, I would usually piece it together over the course of the day and somehow pull it off right before it was due to be turned in. I was not prepared for the scenario that unfolded that day. My dad arrived at the school shortly after lunch, while we were on the playground. He had come to check me out of school to go fishing with him and my grandfather. Mrs. Parker said I was good to go, I just needed to turn in the homework we would be going over in the afternoon. I left the playground confused about how to get out of this one. Of course, I’d rather be fishing with dad and granddaddy than sitting in school. As I approached the classroom, another stroke of genius hit. Dad was with me and he had no clue what my homework was so I went and took out the homework from the day before and put it on Mrs. Parker’s desk. As we were about to walk out, Mrs. Parker walked in to look at the homework and said, “This was yesterday. I need the one for today.” Are you kidding me? No homework, no fishing. And, I got it when I got home.
So, yeah, I tried some stunts in elementary school and got busted. And that getting busted probably saved me from worse trouble later on because I have carried around that fear of getting caught to this day. Nothing goes unnoticed or unpunished forever. That is the lesson in my deviance in 3rd grade. It will come back to you. It may not be the first time or the second time but it will come back. I guess I’m glad I caught back then but I would’ve loved that fishing trip. There is one more moment from elementary school that probably had some effect on me. It’s rather embarrassing and probably affected my approach to girls during school for a couple of years but that all worked out in the long run. I don’t even know if I’ve ever told this story but it is quite funny to look back on, even though it was a rough prank on me. There was a girl in my class that I liked, Shelley. Every boy liked her and even at 8, I pretty much knew she was out of my league. It didn’t stop me from sending her the “check yes or no” letter. I prepared the letter and gave it to my confidant Robbie, MY OWN COUSIN. I knew he could take care of the delivery. Not long after, he brought it back to me and it was checked “yes”. Cha-Ching! Or so I thought. My own blood deceived me. He took the note, checked yes and brought it back to me. I thought for an afternoon she was my girlfriend. Only she never knew about it. His laughter with Corey and a couple of others gave him away and I knew I had been had. That was a good one no doubt. It’s probably where I got my pranking ability from because I spent many years trying to avenge that one.
So while these stories may be funny or cringe-worthy, I have no doubt they have had some sort of lasting impact on my personality. Its weird some of the things we remember while other things just vanish from our minds. Some of that is by design and choice I’m sure. But I have vague memories of death trap monkey bars, a curb store in front of the school and the occasional back flip I couldn’t land. The real distinct memories I have are events that have stayed tucked away in my mind almost as vivid as the day they happened. I can see Mr. Inman and his paddle. I remember the specific swing on the swing set I would use when “waiting for my mom to pick me up.” I remember the look on my dad’s face when the homework scam failed. I remember the look on Robbie’s face when the “Yes or No” scam succeeded.
I can see those things as clear as day. They aren’t painful and they aren’t traumatic but they are meaningful to me and have shaped part of my path. Sometimes we say, “If I had it to do all over again, I would do it differently.” And while that can certainly be true in worst case scenarios, I believe we have to experience these smaller bumps in the road so we will know there are bumps. The participation trophy and the “everybody wins” mantra have its place but I think it also robs our kids of needed disappointment at times. Bailey was recently not chosen for a play for her school. As a parent, I was bothered because I want my daughter to pursue every opportunity she has and I want her to succeed. But there is also a part of me that knew it was a teaching moment. It was an opportunity to tell her that she needed to work a little harder or practice a little more to get the part next time. We will all succeed and fail over the course of our lives. Sometimes the failures make us change the way we do things. Sometimes they make us try harder. Either way, they make us do something. Standing pat is not the way to flourish. It’s not the way to improve. Take the events that happen and make them work for you in some way. A bunch of silly stories results in me still trying to do the right thing one month away from my 40th birthday. You can’t understate the personal importance of seemingly insignificant events in your life.
J-Dub
Do you ever look around and think, “What the hell is going on around here?” I can’t be the only one that shakes their head when looking at my Twitter feed or my FaceBook timeline. It’s not just the politics. It’s not just the racial divide we find ourselves buried in. It’s not just the religious posts or cross fit crys for help. I see battles within friendships and families. I find myself thinking quite often that there has to be something more to all of this. There has to be something better for all of us. We have all developed our opinion on hot topics but our opinion has not been challenged and a lot of times, it is limited to “how my wife feels” or vice versa. When you form that opinion without the appropriate level of personal conviction, you are just playing it safe and avoiding the potential questioning and debate. It’s an easy way to have an opinion. You can proudly proclaim the ways you would do things without providing any reasoning other than “that’s the way I roll.” Personal conviction leads us to do things we are eager and able to justify. And we are pushed to do these things because we feel they are the right things to do in given circumstances. The justifications may not always be understandable to others but that’s where it’s on you. 
