Once Was Not Enough

Her name was Mrs. DeFord, but we called her Mrs. DeFormed.

Chapter Eight

Once Was Not Enough

The 60s were a time of change, a time of a loss of innocences, a dive head first into a new world order, a clash of realities, the dawning of the age of Aquarius. The decade that began as gently as a lamb ended in a roar. Bombs and napalm blasts, civil disobedience, riots, and war protests ripped through the heart of our country-ti’s-of-thee. We were a nation divided by a credo of indivisibility.

Some of us were too young to understand what was going on, others were too old and didn't care. And the ones caught in the middle, they suffered.

In 1960 I entered the sixth grade for the first time, and once again, found myself the new kid in town. My teacher's name was Mrs. DeFord, but we all called her Mrs. DeFormed. She was about a billion years old, and her breath smelled something awful. I think she ate garlic or something to ward off evil spirits. I think the only evil spirits she warded off were her students. Come to think of it, that was probably her objective all along.

I spent a lot of time out in the hallway that year.

Okay, so I was trying to clean up my act, I just don't think I was doing too well at it. In fact, I may have taken a few steps backward. I mean, anybody can be good, right, if they wanted too. The problem was the want to part.

Well, I'm pretty sure my quick-draw, shooting-the-bird-to-my-best-friend-contest didn't endeared me a place in Mrs. DeFormed's heart. I got sent to the hallway while he got to stay in class.

I considered myself lucky.

I don't think jumping out the side windows after school won me any points either.

Sure, it was a great and daring escape... that is, until the day she locked them. I was trapped like a rat in a trap. She kept me prisoner for forty five minutes after school. There I was, alone with her, and her garlic breath, and her crinkled up skin. It was the worst torture a kid could suffer.

I met Charlotte that year. The truth is, she was more or less thrust upon me by her friends.

“Here, take her, she's yours.”

 Yeah thanks, just what I needed, a toss out.

I didn't like Charlotte all that much, but hey, it was somebody to talk to, somebody to share your thoughts with, someone to...Okay, look, let's get the record straight, Charlotte was mean. Why I went along with this mockery I'm not quite sure, but I'm pretty certain it had something to do with Mary Tate's right hook from last year.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for Charlotte to drop me like a hot potato. I didn't mind so much, I like potatoes anyway.

All in all it was a crazy year.

The Russians were sending things into space as if it were their own private playground while Americans stood back and watched in wonderment.

In April 1961 they sent the first man into space.

A month later Alan Sheppard followed aboard the Redstone rocket in a small capsule named  Freedom 7.

And so the space race was on.

Nothing seemed impossible anymore, nothing except passing the sixth grade.

It hurt at first, but hey, I deserved what I got.

I still remember watching my classmates marching like little soldiers off to the high school gym to practice for sixth grade graduation. It was a lonely feeling being left behind.

I didn't realize it then, but failing the sixth grade was the best thing that could have happened to me.

I was leaving a class of average kids and joining a class overflowing with talent in all fields of academics and athleticism.

Fortunately I would be attending the new elementary school only blocks from home.

Mrs. DeFormed wouldn't be there.

In time my new classmates would lift me up to be a better person, but first I had to find a way to make it through that second year of sixth grade. It would be a monumental test of...of...of trying NOT to be stupid.

I don't think putting ink in Billy Adams nasal spray qualified as being too smart. Fortunately I got away with that one.

It was squeezing orange juice in Cindy Jones' hair that got me sent to the principal's office.

Cindy cried all day.

She was pretty cute, and on Valentines day I gave her a big valentines card. It was the most expensive one a kid on .50 cents a week could afford.

She smiled at me and then ripped it to shreds and tossed it in my face. What was I expecting, hugs and kisses.

Well, at least it wasn't squeezed orange juice, but it stung just as bad.

I learned to play football that year, and discovered I could catch a ball.

I guess all in all, it wasn't a bad year, not a bad year at all, and that summer I all but quit using foul language.

Looking back, I've come to believe that, in life, there's a reason for the way things turn out.

Being held back in the sixth grade was a devastating adventure for me, but in the long run, it turned out to be one of the greatest events that ever happened.

My life changed, and by the time I reached 7^th grade I was a different person.

And there, all around me, were my classmates.

Author's Note

Ya goof around long enough and you're bound to fail...sooner or later.

Reviews

[Marie]

You didn't graduate sixth grade, because you weren't ready to graduate sixth grade. Some people need a little longer to grow up.

I skipped a grade in school and it was the worst thing that could have happened to me.