Only The Strong Survive

There’s no recess in high school. They call it Physical Education now. We call it gym class. It looks to me like almost every boy in the Seventh Grade is here. Our bodies are still developing, and most of us are skinny and gangly, barely a muscle showing. We’re all together in gym; the short and the tall, the tough guys and the wimps, the nerds and the jocks-nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.
Our teacher is Mr. Williamson, all crew-cut and bluster. He is obsessed with us wearing ONLY our gym suits in class-there will be no exceptions. And we MUST wear white socks at all times, and jock straps-no underwear may peek out from your gym shorts.
Our gym suits are white T-shirts with Gateway in blue letters, and our shorts are blue with white letters. You can wear white or black sneakers, the color doesn’t matter, but you must wear sneakers. NO EXCEPTIONS!
Mr. Williamson treats us all like we’re Gomer Pyle. He screams at us. There will be no sympathy from Mr. Williamson. We all think of him as a maniac, a hard-nosed bully who gets his kicks out of making young boys feel even smaller than they are.
The gym isn’t finished yet. The floor hasn’t been laid down, so we have to use the cafeteria. Mr. Williamson lines us up military style, in squad formation.
He has us march in close-order drill. Left, idle left, idle left, right, left. Left, left, left, right left. And on and on and on.
I don’t mind the marching so much. It’s easy and you can’t really get embarrassed like you can trying to play some sport you’re no good at. We’re all on a level playing field just marching. It does feel kind of eerie though, as if he’s getting us ready for the military; preparing to ship us off to Vietnam.
The calisthenics are another thing altogether. Mr. Williamson has us doing push-ups and sit-ups and jumping jacks and all manner of body crunching exercises that push us all to the limit.
By the time gym class is over we’re sweaty and sore and we feel as if we’ve been in the Bataan Death March. We have to go back to regular classes after this.
The locker room is a crowded affair, and some guys are embarrassed to be seen naked by the rest of us. Some are so intimidated that they hold towels in front of themselves while taking a shower. I guess they never had to share a bath tub with a brother or a cousin or something.
Mr. Williamson makes it clear that EVERYONE must take a shower. EVERYONE!
It’s hell for the timid among us.
Mr. Williamson makes it clear that EVERYONE must have a lock for their gym locker.
As if someone would want to steal my gym shorts. I do not bring anything of value with me to school.
It’s an hour of “Lord of the Flies”, and then back to class.
I’m still sweating from it all even though I’ve had a shower.
The muscles in my arms and legs ache for the rest of the day. I can barely carry my textbooks.
I will hear Mr. Williamson’s voice in my sleep.
Physical Education they call it.
Three days a week.
Oh for another chance at recess.