From the time I entered Kindergarten, I loved school and had many teachers whom I admired and respected. I liked learning new things, seeing my friends and being part of the various clubs and activities. My only nemesis: Physical Education, commonly called PE. I’ve already made it clear that I was not an athletic wunderkind.
Gym classes were the only ones I truly hated attending. It’s true that I was no math whiz, but at least I was “among friends” and wasn’t the only kid who didn’t fall instantly in love with Advanced Algebra or Solid Geometry.
My dysfunctional relationship with PE classes began in junior high, when we took swimming. What young adolescent in her right mind and without fancy underwear, wants to get undressed in front of other girls who may be more bountifully endowed?
Luckily, I’d been swimming at Rainbow Beach for years, so the instruction part of the experience was easy. It was the damage control afterward that was a killer. After class, we had minutes to get redressed and figure out what to do with our wet hair. None of us wanted to return to our other classes looking like drowned rats.
Swim lessons were over by high school, but by then we suited up in those bilious blue, one-size-fits-all bloomers. I was comparing notes with my sister-in-law recently, who is 10 years older and grew up 250 miles away. Her gym suit looked just like mine! I’m wondering if the State of Indiana bought them at a going-out-of-business sale at some random department store.
I’m sure you remember them. The one-piece suits buttoned up the front, with short sleeves, and were belted at the waist, with elastic in their short legs—like rompers for big kids. Even the prettiest, slimmest among us looked like Pillsbury Doughboys in blue.
I remember few of our activities, except for giant ropes hanging from the ceiling of the gym, which we were supposed to climb, pulling ourselves up with our hands, with the rope wrapped around one of our legs. I managed to get about five feet up before I collapsed, panting, in a heap.
I must have repressed the other lessons, since I thankfully don’t remember any of them. The best part of my high school junior and senior years was no more PE. This Old School type never got the sports memo.
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