Expulsion from the country dancing class
When I was 13 my school decided (god alone knows why) that we should all learn Scottish Country Dancing.
Now 13 year olds, especially 13 year old boys, didn’t take kindly to this and it was with extreme reluctance that any of us turned up for the first instruction.
The first dance were to learn, we were told, was a reel, so we were set out in groups of 8, four boys and four girls and the teacher began to go through the actions we would be required to perform. This took some time as, to be honest, none of us were paying any particular attention, but eventually she got it through to us. Next came the music to which we would cavort. Cavort was her word, not mine.
So there we were, 4 girls and 4 boys hand in hand in a circle dressed in our gym kit, which for girls was T shirt and shorts and for boys a vest and shorts. Both of us were equipped with what we called “plimsoles”. These monstrosities consisted of canvas uppers and virtually smooth rubber soles which, given that the floor we were on was polished hardwood, provided very little grip.
So the music began and off we went, shuffling round in a circle first one direction and then the other with the teacher shouting “Faster you fools, and stay in time with the music”.
So off we went, faster and faster until the inevitable happened. My foot slipped and I toppled taking the girls on either side of me with me. One girl let go and managed to regain her balance, but the other, assisted I must admit, by me forcing the hand she was clinging to forward to break my fall, ended up on her elbows and knees while I came down behind her, my knees between hers, and my body pretty much draped across hers.
This, to the total confusion of both I and the young lady I’d landed on, produced a scream of “Get off her you filthy disgusting boy! Get out of my class and never come back!”
While I was only too happy to get out of this class, and was considered somewhat of a hero by the other boys for getting out of a hated class, none of us could quite figure out what prompted the teacher’s outburst about filth and disgusting.
It wasn’t till about 10 years later when I was recounting the story to some of my friends in our local pub, that It suddenly clicked as to what she had meant.
In hindsight I think her outburst said more about her life experiences than my completely gravity propelled accidental landing.
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LOL!! School Day memories! A vivid one of mine was the class being made to do ‘P.E’ in November on a cold windy day – clad only in tee shirts and shorts in the school quadrangle – the school being located on top of a hill in Northern England – while the gym teacher was huddle in a thick warm coat
sipping on a hot drink. Following which I became seriously ill!! Got to love those gym teachers!
The school I attended in the 6th grade we had a week long trip to a place called Scicon. It was fun but had set backs. We had to do Folk Dancing. We had to shower on a wall with no walls. I was “extremely” shy and didn’t like either of those things. I was suppose to be able to look up in the sky with the huge telescope but for some reason it was cancelled and I ended up having to go on a hike leading a donkey. . . I was lucky to have gotten the “mean” donkey that didn’t like to do what it was suppose to do and often argued about it.
I hated PE in high school. I would of loved to have been able to wear shorts and t-shirt. We had to wear this funky short and shirt thing that was joined together and was extremely ugly. I was made fun of all of my life for being born with milk white skin. It was the fashion during my teen years to pour oil all over your body and fry yourself in the sun to obtain a dark brown tan. My skin just got red and blistered and angry so I avoided this practice and did my best to hide my ugly legs.
In my older years, I’m still shy in person. I do like the computer because I can talk to people without being afraid of being watched. When I see the girls that I went to school with they look old and leather like due to frying their skin and smoking and many did drugs. I did none of these. . . I can say I don’t look as old as my school mates. I had an Irish friend who irritated me into talking to her. She never shuts up. lol She also has the milk white skin but her hair is black. She is very pretty and she is very outgoing. We have been close friends since the sixth grade. I had to leave my best friend from my former school and I was sitting out in the field during recess all alone when she had the nerve to come bother me. lol All my life I only had one or two close friends but I am still friends with them today.
I loved going to school to learn and I loved most of my teachers. . . I can name 3 or 4 out of all those school years that I didn’t like. School gave me legitimate reasons to not have to be around my mother. I was never in a hurry for the school day to end. I loved college. I loved one of my English teachers, I wanted to follow in her footsteps and get a doctorate in English but the situations of my life didn’t allow me to finish that goal.
As far as the dancing goes. . . the only man I enjoyed dancing with was my father. . . probably because I meant the world to him. I got to have him all to myself as he was teaching me. *smile*
As far as that teacher that called you those awful words. . . it sounds like the problem was within them and not you. You have always been such a gentleman in my experience.
Similar to GG’s story we had 4 “sports houses” at grammar school with there own colours. When we played football in the winter the teams were picked and each team had a selection of house colour shirts. The sadistic sports teacher would then pick one team to play without shirts, and it always seemed to be the team I was in – and it was flipping cold in the middle of winter.
OMG!!! What a story. First, a teacher calling people, FOOL, is shocking. We were not allowed to call anyone a Fool. No teacher in any of my classes ever called anyone names of any kind. I doubt if you ever went on to enjoy dancing, but you don’t appear to be permanently scarred as rough treatment seems okay. Where did this happen?
BRILLIANT story way ! ?
We used to do Country dancing and I loved it. I think some of the boys felt a bit self concious. It was usually the boys who started deliberately slowing down or speeding up. I still enjoy LINEDANCING.
Great story, Waylander. I remember having to learn square dancing at about that age with about the same result. Everyone hated it! I think it was payback from the gym teacher.
Very amusing! Thanks for sharing.
At a certain time in life you have more spare time to think about situations and the penny drops as the saying goes, I’ve had moments like that, about things that at the time, life just kept me so bus, I had no time to stop and analyse anything……….
I’m sorry, I meant. “busy”