Some people take comedy classes or reflect on personal tragedies in order to find material that makes them laugh. As for me, everything I needed was waiting for me at Junction Elementary and Jr. High school. Tucked away in rural Nor-Cal, this spectacular gem of the public education system was so ingrained with unintentional silliness that it was destined to become an unlimited resource for personal and comedic reflection. There are endless things I remember about Junction. Sure, they're mostly over-idealized and watered-down with generalization, but hey, its my blog and I'll ramble if I want to.
There are endless things I remember about being a Junction Raider. I remember I was even declared a "Raider Treasure," an honor bestowed upon me due to a stellar job on a creative writing assignment. I walked away with bragging rights, while my mother walked away with an industrial adhesive-coated bumper sticker for her spankin' new mini-van*. I remember I had a really mean-but-hilarious teacher early on. She was sadistic and humiliating but in her sunny moments was funnier than I think she will ever know. This lady taught us times tables using what resembled Fresh Prince's "Jump On It" dance while chanting "six times six equals thirty-six!" Despite being a WASP, I firmly believe she was both Jewish and a New Yorker in a previous life.
(Jump on It...www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_TkEgydyZY)
I also recall there was a gay pirate painted on the side of the gym. Yes sir...Junction Raiders. Purple and White. The poor contractor paid to create the mural made the mistake of painting his earring on the right side, thus guaranteeing generations of awkward guffaws from countless pre-homophobic 4th grade boys.
Then came the Hendrickson's. A 6th Grade teaching tour-de-force, the Hendrickson's were a married couple teaching math and science. Believe you me, what they lacked in social skills and consistent grading methodology, they more than made up for in feline obsession and pure knee-slapping hilarity. Their teaching methods were so selflessly badass that I am tempted to close my laptop and give them an awkward wine-induced thank-you call. I maintain that what I have retained about the "order of operations" in mathematics is due entirely to Mrs. Hendrickson dressing up as what can only be described as a drunk, octogenarian grandmother/family-Thanksgiving nightmare that she would dub "Aunt Sally," and explain that we should all "excuse her." Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally. Friggin' woman was a GENIUS. Sketch routines could be written on the Hendricksons, but they insisted on teaching children who would not understand what comic savants they were for at least a decade. Talk about thankless.
Unfortunately, I possess little memory of 7th and 8th grade. I remember braces, tear stains on my pillow, a therapist or two, and perhaps a minor obsession with someday obtaining fame as sweet, sweet revenge on all the bitches who were fortunate enough to fill out their training bras before me. ("Hi, I'm Danielle and I am a Meglomaniacal Narcissist"..."Hi Danielle!") Anyway, what I do remember is limited to an itchy Cheerleading uniform, the most epic video project of "The Outsiders" ever to exist, and a science teacher who should absolutely be given his own reality show.
Let's review:
The cheerleading uniform was itchy because our coach said we were undeveloped pre-adolescents (read: flat chested tweens), so we had to wear big, bulky sweaters instead of the usual sleeveless uniform tops. I think she thought our wiry limbs wouldn't fill out the sleeve holes. The irony here of course is that she had no trouble forcing me to expose my white, flabby arms (farms) senior year of high school. She also required that the captain of the squad wear these truly unbelieveable purple pirate pants instead of the usual cheerleading skirt. It was a true testament to need for recognition that I was surely devastated that I was not made captian and thus not afforded the honor of dressing like an underage cast member of 'Newsies' my 8th grade year.
As for 'The Outsiders,' I worry that this video still exists somewhere. Jennifer and Kirsten partnered with me to make a video representation of the SE Hinton classic novel, the details of which I am still not clear on. I do remember is Kirsten and I re-enacted the scene involving Ponyboy fatally stabbing Bob. Steak knives and liberal amounts of ketchup were used. We concluded the video with a Greaser memorial slide show consisting of pictures of us chain-smoking, attempting to drown eachother, and doing other things that we felt 1960s high school gangsters did. I don't care how repressed she was, I maintain our English teacher thought it was epic.
Finally we arrive at Mr. Addamson. The biggest pimp Palo Cedro ever saw. This guy looked like a cross-breed between that Inside the Actors Studio host and Stryker from X-Men. He drove a huge sky-blue hippy van that my mother later WON in a charity auction and subsequently gave away, an occasion I have yet to forgive. His class was set up like a daytime courtroom show, with him sitting high on a lifted podium, overlooking our blemished faces below (except it was acne instead of meth). You know, I thought of little else in that class except for how much I wanted to reach across the table and crank up the gas just to see what would happen. This guy never smiled and his humor was so dry it would take me a college degree and a weird appreciation for Tom Lehrer to get it. I used to think he was bored with us, now I think he was just entertaining himself. Like a writer who puts adult jokes in SpongeBob.
Tom Lehrer - watch it and marvel: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYW50F42ss8
I don't know what made me think of Junction tonight. I think it was because I was pondering all the things in my life that I'd like to sarcastically write about and I again realized that the most awkward or painful times just seem to translate in my head (Wow. Comedy from tragedy. Real original, kid). I also think it's because my high school reunion is coming up, so thinking about the past in general has become the norm for me these past few days. High School was alright but honestly, we spend too much time worrying about trying to fit in to notice or remember the more insane things. I think the years before are so much more fruitful because we are young enough to think our teachers don't have flaws, and so our flawed teachers impress upon us their own views of the world which take decades for us to examine, laugh at, and understand. Maybe it makes us Raider Treasures after all.
*I would in no way be surprised if the current owner of my Mom's old minivan is still unwillingly displaying that indestructable bumper sticker.
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