I can’t even remember the content of my studies in Health & Safety class. It was a required course for all freshmen and it was BORING. I was of course at the top of the food chain in my middle school, by being a freshman, the head of the class. Our local high school was jam packed with sophomores, juniors and seniors so the freshman stayed one more year at the junior high school level and became the big cheese for one year before plummeting to the bottom again with big time teens ready to burst upon the world.
The Health and Safety teacher was also the track coach and chess club sponsor. Nice man, who wore a shirt and tie, carried a brief case full of track strategies and statistics and stood before the bored freshman to lecture about the lesson plan. For that hour, he could easily be distracted from health and safety instruction, by say one smart aleck kid asking a well thought out “track or chess question”. Turning to the chalk board he would draw out long diagrams, and the rest of us could play hangman, write love notes, draw or do our homework for 4th period - sort of a laid back study hall. He never knew.
Of course, I was not that smart aleck kid, but being creative I was known for being fun and a ring leader of sorts when trying to create an atmosphere of fun and games. So began our Truth or Dare sessions. We would engage him in the art of chess or track lectures and while his back was turned drawing a diagram of plays, we would take turns with Truth or Dare tasks. When it was my turn, I was “dared” to get out of my seat (I was at the end of the row) and slip out into the empty hallway, travel to the next floor and swipe the attendance slip off the door of my boyfriend’s English class in progress. Brilliant strategic move for the kid who wanted me to fail at a dare- so that I might have to divulge a “truth.” I slipped out of class, skipping lightly in my navy blue Charlie Brown flats. Oh, the glory of those stylish duds! They matched my red brushed denim hot pants, matching navy tights and navy turtleneck bodysuit. Hey, no digs at the duds! It was 1972 and the student council had fought for the destruction of our school’s dress code and we fully took advantage of the odd assortment of outfits we could create.
I naturally was successful, triumphant even to the task at hand – had to stand outside of the classroom until the teacher turned his back again – he never wondering why my seat was empty. I slid into my seat quietly, mission accomplished. I felt WICKED naughty, totally cool, hoodwinking that silly teacher as such and getting away with 9th grade murder. Oh, he (the teacher) got his revenge, as I was getting a “C” average in that class, learned not a Safe or Healthy thing and by the end of the semester was sequestered at home with a nasty case of mono. My friends brought me my school work and upon my return to school I had to take all of his weekly quizzes and one final test in one after school session of test taking. His version of murder. The end to that story is a whole OTHER blog post. The reason for this here post?
The moral of this story, the end-all-be-all for the reason this memory popped into my head?
Impending spring fever reminding me of school, nah.
It’s the Truth and Dare’s of life that make us go out on the ledge and live to challenge ourselves.
It’s FRIDAY – go out and live life this weekend! I dare you!
Oh, and Gah - I’ve miss you all.