Kids in School

It doesn’t matter what elementary school you went to. As long as you weren’t homeschooled, you most definitely had at least one of each of the kids I’m about to mention in your class. And if you’re reading one of these descriptions and thinking “I don’t know anyone that was like that in elementary school” then guess what… it was probably you and you are in denial. Note: the names I’m about to use have not been changed.

The Kid that Peed Her Pants

I’m not talking about in preschool. I’m talking about an 8 year old just letting it go on the carpet. It was a rarer than rare occasion to get to be in this kid’s class. And it wasn’t like he/she did it all the time. Kind of like an eclipse. But when it did happen… no one ever knew what to do. One kid heads to the closet to get the barf sand, because what do you put on pee stains!? I usually sat there utterly baffled as to how that could sneak up on the person with no warning. How did they not just run to the bathroom? And then they were on water fountain restriction for like a month like dehydration is the solution to lack of bladder control. This person in my class was named Mary, or “pee pants”. I ended up going to college with pee pants and when I saw her on campus my freshman year all I wanted to do was be like “I hope you’ve gotten your bladder under control”.

The Mustard Face

Billy was the child that always, ALWAYS, had crusted mustard on his face. And no, not after hot dog lunch day. I’m taking about in the morning, and on days where it was pizza for lunch. And you just kept thinking “what were you eating with mustard on it for breakfast?” and “how do you not feel that on your face?!” I suspect child abuse, because feeding mustard everyday to a 3^rd grader is borderline torture.

The Kid that Could Actually Pull off Nap Time

Let’s face it. We took nap time for granted in kindergarten. Besides the fact that we were expected to sleep on vinyl, quarter-inch thick mats on the floor in the middle of the day, we were only given like 20 minutes to fall asleep. Because most 5 year olds can pull that off. Except there was always one kid that was out like a light every time. His name was JP. And when the lights would come back on there would always be two constants in our classroom. 1: My name would be on the board for talking during nap time and I’d have to be in time out for 5 minutes and 2: JP was in a deep REM hibernation-style slumber. The teacher would always “let him rest” like he’s had a harder day than the rest of us with finger painting and macaroni art, and this basically was her way of creating 26 5-year old watch dogs. If JP even THOUGHT about opening an eye we’d yell “faker” and he was out of there. Get up and learn the alphabet JP. Just because your name isn’t actually a word doesn’t mean you don’t have to learn to read.

 

The Kid With the Awful Snacks

This kid’s name was Ainsley. And no, there was never another person in my school named Ainsley. I always had the DUMBEST snacks on the planet. Not because my mom hated me. But because we shopped at a farmers market and she didn’t want me eating processed foods. So while everyone else got  gushers, goldfish or those chocolate chewy bars, you wanna know what I got? Fruit leather. It’s literally a leather-like form of fruit compost that took so long to chew that I was starting to show signs of early onset TMJ.

I remember Mandy had the BEST snacks ever. And her cubby was right below mine, so every time I’d go to get something out of mine I’d see her awesome cookies or sugar-packed treat. One time I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I swapped our snacks. So when snack time came, yes I ran to my cubby and slammed all 3 feet of fruit by the foot into my mouth, in a wad. And when she pulled out the baggy of trail mix (don’t act like it was the kind with M&Ms either), she somehow was on to me. I was so floored that they instantly knew it was me. Hindsight, do I feel badly about it? No. Lesson learned: don’t leave your stupid trail mix next time, like a calling card.

band vs orchestra. They're both gross.

Was there anything more polarizing in middle school than the choice between playing an instrument in band or orchestra? I only give these as the two options since the third option, the one that involves not playing an instrument at all, wasn’t really a “choice” was it… those kids were the ones that were insta-pegged as not being able to handle reading music since they could barely read actual words. Sad.

So for the rest of the literate sixth grade population, you were staring down the barrel of what felt like the rest of your life. Let’s start with band:

If I had to use a noun to describe playing an instrument in the band it would be “spit”. Everything in that entire room was absolutely covered in it. To the point where I would compare that experience to simply playing a retainer for an hour a day. Question: what was with that valve on the brass instruments that they would open up, blow real hard into the mouthpiece and just drain out what had collected thus far. Onto the carpet. Because THAT carpet was getting cleaned all the time. That was the carpet that we would sit on too… and I vividly remember thinking “why is this carpet so wet?!”. 

I played the flute. Mostly because I was slightly aware of how disgusting a majority of the instruments were in that class and the flute was one of the least offenders. Also mostly because my sister played the flute and I could just use her old one for zero dollars. I could never wrap my brain around the people that chose clarinet “because I already know how to play one”. You know what they were referencing? A recorder. That was the basis for their instantaneous talent at the instrument that sounds like it has a sinus infection at all times. Also, what, WHAT was up with the fact that they would have to suck on that weird stick for like a half hour before they played. Spit, yet again, a requisite to band success. And they were never scared to just pass that spit stick around. How cold sores weren’t a raging epidemic at this point is beyond me. 

Maybe we were all distracted by that weird round mouth rash all the trumpet players had. WHAT. WAS. THAT?!

My flute wasn’t exactly the spit free option however. The only spitless option was the drums, but since I didn’t play softball competitively and didn’t want to cut all my hair off and wear baggy jeans, I wasn’t going to lezzo out and play the drums. 

I remember one time whilst practicing the flute at home I started to play right after eating a bowl of golden grahams. How I got my hands on golden grahams is the glaring plot hole of this story because my mom would never allow that in the house, but I digress. Regardless, the reason that I still to this day know what cereal I ate before I practiced that fateful afternoon is because every single day after that, all I smelled in band class was golden grahams. I mean I can’t even look at a bowl of that cereal now without thinking “I need to practice my scales”.

There were always the same types of people in band. One being the neck strap kids. These were the kids that weren’t capable of simply holding their less-than-5-pound instrument to their mouth for an hour. Band was the best thing that ever happened to them. They are in some adult version of a marching band right now. Still with a neck strap and a lame excuse. 

Another main group was the gender confused group, namely the guy that played the flute. Jesus. How was this kid oblivious to the fact that he just came out of the closet by accident? How was this kid’s dad not like “NO! I don’t care if he wants to play the flute Debbie, we’re not letting our son do that to himself”.  I remember the dude in our band class. Vividly. I would stare at him in disbelief that this dumber than dumb instrument was worth the absolute crap-load of ridicule he got daily.

Here's this picture of a rando band class, with the guy right up front. There's one in every band.

So let’s move on to the other option. Orchestra. Was there anybody in this class that was not of Asian descent? Were the Asians the only ones who were aware of the saliva situation in the room next door?

I would actually argue that instead the kids in orchestra were super geniuses. Hi, most confusing instrument in the world that I have to play from behind. Nice to meet you. You’d have to be the kid from “The Computer Who Wore Tennis Shoes” just to know how to hold those instruments.  And remember the girls (it was always a girl) that would get LIVID if you said she played the violin when she played the viola. It’s like a one-eighth size difference between the two, chill out. I had spit in my eye from band class and couldn’t tell from afar.