Saturday, December 18, 2010

The Twelve Days of Festivus: Day Six


Day Six: Grade Five

Grade five was one of the best grades of my life, topped only by grade twelve (as twelve was the swan song to an educational system I did not like). While it was an odd change of pace for me to now have to walk to the different classrooms rather than having the teachers all walk to our classroom, I had some cool new teachers, my school was now much less of a walk from home, and I befriended some cool new kids.
The problem with grade five is that it was, for the most part, uneventful. After some brainstorming, I couldn't recall any funny, sad, or touching experiences that I had during the grade. Unfortunately, that makes for a pretty lame day six entry. Therefore, I've decided to just share a few odd events that occurred during grade five. Random, unrelated, and short. Enjoy.

1. Bartmania. Late 1989 saw the beginning of a legendary television show. You may have heard of it; The Simpsons. When that show first came out, I was OBSESSED with it. Yeah, I was obsessed with several things during grade five...when Batman came out, I constantly tried to be a superhero. I tried to invent a billy club with grapple like Daredevil had and I'm sure you've read Dave Wayne...aka Batboy! I also was obsessed with Ninja Turtles to the point of having dangerous rebar fights in homes under construction (awesome!).
But Simpsons was likely the biggest "fad" of grade five. What was interesting is that during the first year or two of The Simpsons run, Homer was not the most popular character as he is now. It was Bart. And man did I ever love Bart. I imitated him whenever possible, which saw me no end of trouble in school. If you are old enough to recall, when The Simpsons first came out, it was abhorred by parents. So much so, that many parents forbade their children from even watching it. My parents weren't crazy and so they let me watch it. The problem was that I took what I saw to school with me, which pissed off the school to no end (after all, the school had to ensure that the children of crazy censoring parents didn't hear such horrible phrases as "eat my shorts" or "don't have a cow, man"). I was sent to the principle's office at least a half dozen times because I quoted Bart. One time I was marched down to the office AND THEN sent home. Why? Because I had a shirt with Bart Simpsons on it that said "Eat My Shorts." Yeah.
I refused to be censored, which is why I kept getting into trouble. All in all, it was such a stupid thing for the school to have a cow about. Eat my shorts, Meadowbrook School. Eat my shorts.

2. The Duck Award. At the end of grade five, Mr. Greyson, my homeroom teacher (and he also taught me math I think) handed out some cute laminated awards to his students. They were themed like diplomas only they had silly names. He printed them out on his Commodore 64 or something. They were cool.
I received The Duck Award. I know what you're thinking. "That makes no sense." But Greyson had gone somewhere with it. The award said "The Duck Award: Because David Always Quacks Up In Front of the Class." I admit I quacked up when he handed it to me. I still have it too. It's that awesome.

3.The swimming pool. Speaking of obsessions, there has been one constant favourite of mine since I was a few years old. Doctor Who. Sometimes in my childhood, I took that interest a few steps too far. I took Nick for a trip through time in Port-O-Potty Time Machine.I had a large cardboard box with a door cut out as a makeshift TARDIS. I taped the episodes every Saturday night and watched them first thing Sunday morning. And alas, sometimes I dressed the part as well.
On a trip to the Airdrie swimming pool with my school, it was a bit of a nippy day. What better opportunity to wear a scarf. I had a colourful knitted scarf that my mum had given me a few years before as it was (very slightly) similar to The Fourth Doctor's scarf. I wrapped it around my neck with pride. I also stuffed my pockets with random crap...the Doctor always had things in his pockets and I did the same. I had a yo-yo, bouncy rubber balls, elastic bands, magnifying glass, flashlights, jacks, thimble, 5 1/4" floppy disk, pens, pencils, folded paper, napkins, small metal plates, a tire gauge (made for a great sonic screwdriver), and so much more. My pockets bulged as I walked with friends to the pool. When we got to the pool, we had to all wait in the lobby for the geriatrics to finish their flabby flaps. In the lobby, I began to pull out item after item. It amused many people, including some much younger children who were also waiting to get in the pool. Some peers looked at me like I was a lunatic. It was great. For a while there, I really felt like The Doctor.

4. Carrie Anne Cundiff. When I began thinking about my fifth grade times, she was the first thing to come to my mind. What can I say about Carrie Anne? She was the epitome of brown-nosing goody goody two-shoes. She was always the one to toss her hand up to answer questions, always the one to sweet-talk the teachers, and always the one that we wanted to throw head-first into a dumpster. She had no friends...and was that any wonder? She was ANNOYING.
One day in class, I asked her a question. I don't recall the question, but I do recall that she replied with a mumble. I asked her to repeat herself and she said to me "Nope, I never eat my cabbage twice."
WHAT THE FUCK? I repeatedly asked her to repeat what she said because I just didn't hear her the first time, but she would only respond with "I never eat my cabbage twice, I never eat my cabbage twice, I never eat my cabbage twice." Well perhaps you would like to eat my foot, you butt-kissing little freak!
Speaking of freak, during Halloween in grade five, we all got some treats from one of our teachers. When she was handed a sucker, she said to the teacher (and in front of the entire class) that she had to refuse the sucker. It was purple, and her mother did not allow her to have dark-coloured suckers. She exchanged for an orange one and seemed content. But why? WHY would her mother not allow dark-coloured suckers but the light-coloured ones were acceptable? Was it some sort of uneducated belief that somehow the lighter-coloured variety had less sugar? Or was it the food colouring that the mother was concerned would stain Carrie Anne's teeth? Or was this simply a lineage of insanity? I must know!

There, a few snippets from grade five. Like it, don't like it. I don't care. It's not like you're paying to read these stories!
See you tomorrow for Day Seven (a double feature of grade six stories)!

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