The Wright Class

    Eighth grade social studies and home ec have been given a mention in recent posts. I do not remember much about eighth grade math at all – I can picture the classroom, but not the teacher. It was the year Mom and Dad referred to me as the Math Dummy because I had been moved from the honors class. As a result, the new class was easy, unchallenging. I proved to myself that I was not a math dummy – but everyone else was unconvinced – so there I stayed with my math grade raising my overall average – thus I kindof lucked out over the whole thing!

     Even though I had gym class every day in eighth grade, I do not have a memory at this point of any of it.

     I do recall having a study hall in this grade – the teacher was someone named Mr. Wright – I remember that because of the concept of Mr. Right who I was hoping to find someday. I don't know what Mr. Wright taught when he was not monitoring our study hall, but I do recall he was a Viet Nam Vet, just something we knew, not that he had visible scars from the experience or wore it on his sleeve.

     The kids did however goof on him – and I got in trouble one day for passing a note after he had told us the next person to get caught passing a note would have to stay after school. I had written a page of jokes about a classmate – how terrible was that! - and passed it around – someone else asked me if I wanted Mr. Wright to see it – and I said sure – because the jokes were so clever and he would appreciate them, and because I did not care if I got into trouble over it, that is, the consequences were not enough to deter me.

     Mr. Wright told me to stay after school. And after school, he handed me about twenty sheets of paper and told me to copy the note over and over again until the paper was all used up. I wrote real big. Again I thought I was just oh so clever – no one else had ever thought about writing big before! I thought he was going to give me more paper when I was done, and I was going to write even bigger on the new paper. But instead of wasting more paper, Mr. Wright had me sit there until the late buses were called.

     There were late buses which ran after school. Mom was used to me staying late for extracurricular activities. And she did not always remember my schedule. So I knew that I could probably get away with having had detention if Mom did not ask after I got home what I had stayed late for.

     The after-school buses were a scaled down version of the regular buses – they combined many of the routes. I of course took the bus that was going to Boston – and it went down many more roads than my usual bus. I got to see lots more of Boston. And I picked out my favorite places along Back Creek Road, got to see where classmates lived, got a great view from the top of the hill. The ride was much more relaxing than the regular bus which was noisy and sketchy because there were more kids – more chances for me myself to get goofed on. 

      Riding the late bus was a way to unwind – usually a seat to myself, little chance of being noticed by the others, buying time before having to hit the homework or chores at home.

      The weather could have been treacherous outside – sleet, snow, rain; and some days it was even getting dark on the way home. But on the late bus, I had some moments of peace – no responsibilities – just looking out the window and enjoying the ride!

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