Training My Whole Life

For both semesters in 7th grade, I had to take the obligatory Physical Education (PE) class.  Seventh grade PE was only one of the academic and social landmines that my classmates and I had to survive before moving on to the eighth grade.  In 8th grade, one could go about his/her life without the worry of PE as the requirement was met the previous year.

I am not going to waste anyone’s time regurgitating all of the research and literature that is published on all of the very reasonable logic why children hate PE class.  If a person is really interested, do a Google search.  I assure you; the research is there.  Instead, I am going to tell you my story of PE and my conclusions about it.

Seventh grade was a difficult year for me, and I’m sure, for many of my peers. In my school district, all of the elementary schools ended at sixth grade and everyone moved to the “junior high” for 7th and 8th grade.  It was the first year in which I rode the school bus.  Until then, I walked to the neighborhood elementary school through the grassy and wooded fields between my house and school.  Seventh grade was the first time that I moved from classroom to classroom for each subject.  I had a different teacher for each class requiring that I figure out the temperaments of several different adults.  It was the first time I had ever had a male teacher.  It was the first year class material became challenging for me.  Three quarters of my 7th grade class were students from other schools that I had never met before.  And, I had to get glasses and I started my period.

This new concept and “class” for PE was new to me.  In elementary school, we played games in the gym or outside for PE and recess.  PE was indistinguishable from recess.  We didn’t change our clothes to play because play and physical activity were so  integrated into everything we did that there was no reason to change clothes.  Now, all of a sudden, physical activity was “education” and a class requiring one to change clothes in a locker room.  What!?  Take my clothes off of my scary, changing, unpredictable body in front of others–girls I had only recently met!  Even as a 7th grader, I thought this was crazy.  But, that is exactly what I had to do.  To make matters even more horrifying, gym was co-ed and taught by a man.

     But, I was a compliant, uncomplaining child who had learned early on in life to shut-up and do as I was told.  So, that is what I did, as best I could.  I hated every day of it.  After the locker room horror, we did 15 minutes of calisthenics in tidy rows. Of course, the teacher did not do these exercises with us, not even once to demonstrate. He would pick one of his favorite boy students to stand in front of the class and lead us through the routine calisthenics.  Again, I identified the hypocrisy and stupidity of this.

              

     Besides being boring and no fun, I could not do the same number of push-ups or leg jumps as the boy in the front.  But, I did my best and I did gradually get better even at  the most difficult skills for me.  After calisthenics, we were divided into teams to play whatever game was on the “education curriculum” for that quarter.

     I had played community youth softball and was actually a pretty decent player.  I had spent my childhood playing games, ice skating on the river, building snow forts, sledding, riding bikes with my friends, building tree forts, swimming almost every single day of the summer, working in my mother’s garden, mowing grass, and a million other outdoor shenanigans.  The only time I really ever stopped was to read and even that was done outdoors as often as possible.  But, now, my physical “education” was being judged and graded.  I was not as strong as some in the class.  I was not as coordinated with this new body of mine as some in the class.  I didn’t know the “official” rules to many of the games we played. I was bewildered and overwhelmed with ALL of the school changes.  Instead of PE being an outlet for the hours of pent-up energy from sitting in so many classes all day long and a relief and enjoyment for all of this new stress in life, PE was just another stressor and another opportunity for my shortcomings to be pointed out.

     However, I was a generally hopeful child.  I was resilient and adaptable.  I got used to the hour-long bus ride to and from school that included obnoxious high school kids and a driver who I am certain had an early form of dementia.  I got used to the many teachers.  Although there were some real assholes in the bunch, there were some real gems too.  (I’m looking at you Mrs. Bibbee, Mr. Montana, Mr. Fowler—all wonderful diamonds showing me respect and, more importantly, a trust and expectation that I was capable and smart).  I got used to the locker room and figured out how to change without feeling too exposed.  And, eventually, I began to figure out how to manage my classes and even be successful.  Things got better.

     So, when it was announced after Christmas break that we would be playing floor hockey, I thought it would be fun and was excited to try.  The rules were easy to learn and it seemed to me that speed and a little hip action made the game one in which a girl could excel. 

     I loved it!!  It was a fun game and I really felt like I contributed positively to my team.  We were starting to get to know each other and we felt friendlier with the kids we had only just met that year.  I remember laughing a lot while playing that game and I even remember talking about it at home. I looked forward to playing so much that I even undertook the calisthenics with new vigor in my excitement to get to the game as quickly as possible.  I played hard, got sweaty, ran around, laughed, made some friends, and even scored a couple of really awesome point shots!  Things were looking up!

Then I got my report card.

B+   in PE

And, how the hell did the “girl with her period every single week,” and therefore did not “dress for gym” at least once a week get an A??

     Was her A based on her extracurricular sports participation at school?  Was the difference based on her better coordination than mine?  Was the difference her ability to do more push-ups than me, when she chose to do so?  Was the difference that she was prettier, less awkward, more cute, and outgoing?

     I did ask the teacher and was given some bullshit answer that I don’t even remember today.  I got through that year of PE and enjoyed 8th grade without it.  However, the whole ordeal was to be repeated in 9th grade when we moved to the high school and had yet another whole year of PE with yet another male teacher.  I got a B and B+ that year too with no explanation as to why.

    But, the pretty little things with the cute boobies, bubbly personalities, weekly menses, and no two working brain cells all got A’s.  (Yes, I’m looking at you Mr. Beaumont).

     PE and the gym itself became things to be avoided at all costs.  No, my dear friend, I will not join the swim team.  No, I will not play community softball anymore.  No, I will not try new activities for the fear of being judged again as barely acceptable.  Sigh………

     This stupid fear continued into college when the last of my three required PE credits was procrastinated all the way to my senior year.  I had to get that final credit or I would not graduate. Of course, the options of classes were limited.  The only open PE class that fit my crazy schedule of nursing clinical hours was aerobics.  Yep. Aerobics.  Yeah.

     Again, I am resilient and adaptable.  How bad could this be?  This is college, right?  There are plenty of much larger issues with which I was trying to cope than a PE class.  I attended every class, exercised, learned the routines as best as I could; although, I never understood the tragedy if I went right when everyone else went left.  Wasn’t the point that I was exercising?  I was actually toning up and lost about 50 pounds.  Then, midway through the semester, I was hospitalized for over two weeks and it took another two weeks before I could go back to class.  My life fell apart and many people told me there was no way I could ever make up all that work and still graduate on time.  Of course my absence was excused, but there was so much material to learn and hours of clinicals to make up.

      The PE teacher said I could make up each class I missed by attending an additional hour of aerobics class.  So, even though I had pages upon pages of textbooks to read, several enormous term papers to write, and several hours of missed hospital experience to make up, there I was attending the regular aerobics class and then staying for the next one to make up for the ones I had missed.

     I really got in shape with some nicely defined muscles and lost another 25 pounds. I thought that was excellent evidence of my attendance, work, and participation.

     I received an A–

     That’s right.  The bitch gave me an A–.

     When questioned as to why I received an A–, I was told it was based on my overall participation.  I pointed out to her my obvious weight loss and even pulled up my sleeve to show off my new-found muscles.  A–.  End of story.

     Who cares, right?  It was difficult for me not to see the craziness of the situation especially because despite my illness and absence, I received a straight, solid A in every other class.

      Again, who cares?  I am resilient.  I am adaptable.  Let it go.

      Well, that’s what I did until the end of spring semester when the registrar called to inform me that I would not be graduating with honors because my grade point averaged ended up being a 3.4444444. The dear lady in the registrar’s office had calculated it out as far as she could in the hope that she could round up to a 3.5. The sweet lady knew I had been hospitalized, she knew my life had fallen apart, and she knew I worked my ass off using every ounce of energy and ability I had to finish my classes to graduate.  At one point in our conversation, she said, “You know, if that PE grade was an A rather than an A-, you would have the honors.”  But, the next thing she said surprised me, “I thought you would be more upset over this.”  No, my sweet lady, PE has been fucking up my grade point average since the 7th grade; I’m used to it.  I was just too tired to fight and just wanted to be done.

     Do you know what I learned in PE?

I learned how to be bullied and how to take it.

      But, sometimes it still makes me angry.  Why can’t the smart kid ever get a damn A in PE?  Are PE “teachers” so insecure about their own shortcomings that they must torture the kid who already has difficulty fitting in with everyone else?  What the fuck is the purpose of PE, anyway??

      I thought the purpose was exercise, being healthy, experiencing lots of different activities, enjoying some, and learning to make physical activity a part of one’s life.  Apparently, that is not the case.

      So, now, I’m a middle-aged woman who has birthed a bunch of kids, and put on more extra pounds than I would ever care to admit.  I could certainly use more physical activity in my life and it is solely my responsibility and fault that I don’t get more.  I do tend to enjoy the more solitary activities like walking, hiking, swimming, maybe a bike ride, and working in my garden.  Those are all good things.  I have thrown off  *most* of the shackles of fear and intimidation that all of those PE “teachers” sowed into me.  I do still think about some of these things when I attend an exercise class or use the exercise machines at the health club.  But, for the most part, my attitude now is:  If you don’t like my fat ass, then don’t look, I’m not here for you, I’m here for me.

     This attitude was working fine for me until my young adolescent son, who is brilliant, a bit awkward with his rapidly growing body, is kind, soft-spoken, obedient, and non-confrontational brought home his report cared.  A–   in PE…….Sigh…….

      So, I ask the “teacher,” what specifically does he have to do for an A?

      Her answer shows her bias and stupidity.  She doesn’t give me any specifics and instead tells me things such as :  “He is doing great.”  “He shows up on time and ready.”  “He meets expectations.”  “He plays all the games.”  As I am trying to reconcile these glowing statements about my son and the fact that she still gave him an A–, she says, “I rarely give A’s.  A student must go above and beyond to get an A.”

       What the hell did she just say???  Doesn’t this  discouraging philosophy completely defeat the entire purpose of PE class??  Isn’t this statement alone evidence of her overall faulty thinking??

       My child is able to get an A+ in literature and science, but not in PE??

Nope.  This is not going to fly with me.

I think I will be getting my heart rate up this next week by battling this self-important, biased, idiotic, gym “teacher.”

I’VE BEEN TRAINING FOR THIS MY WHOLE LIFE.