The times, they are a'changin'
It's been a while since I... chronicled.
There's been some growing up with the demons.
Lucifer is 10. And has a crush on the same girl
Then we have Damian. He's 13 now.
When I was 13, I was still kissing my arm,
He kindly told me about it. I said it
We're driving him into town, at 7:00pm, at
I remember last year, registering Damian at
It is the same highschool I attended from
We went through the doors and I was instantly
We went down the hall which holds the cells for
But the silence now was so unnerving. I looked
We walked to the far end of the long, dark
And we ran. We ran FAST. And we yelled.
Alas, there was no one. Just the echo
But the exhileration!! Six years I spent
Anyway. Now Damian is in grade 8. Lucifer
One of my little brother's friends is a teacher
Is this where I can say "Uh, hey Vic?
Ah blackmail.
There are two teachers there who taught ME.
When I was in school, I was teased because I
NOW however, it's completely opposite.
As we walked into the school, I remembered the
THE TEACHERS LOUNGE???? *I* was going to
As a student, we would press our ears to the
We went in. What a freakin' disappointment.
Dad changed into full Indian dress. The
We were escorted to Joey's class. Dad entered
Lucifer and Damian are revered, they have a real,
Times really have changed, in the almost two decades
I mean, look how I turned out.
*quickly scanning the phone book for private schools*
~~~~~~Dave~~~~~~~
he had a crush on in kindergarten. Little
blond girl with pigtails who dressed up
like a kitten for hallowe'en. She "sat on
his desk" during a speech in their room.
He tells me this all dreamily. Sweet,
adorable young puppy love. It's just too
cute.
HE has a crush on a new girl at his school.
Tall redhead with glasses and a very lovely
face. I imagine she sat on his lap during
school assembly. He speaks of her while
wiggling his eyebrows. Panic, mayhem,
gnashing of teeth. It's just too scary.
practicing for the moment when someone
actually kisses ME. He's already smewching
her in the school libray.
must be a little... nerve-wracking... to have
someone suddenly invade your personal space
for the very first time. But the scary part
is he wandered off muttering "Hope she
invades my space again sometime soon".
night?!, so he can watch her sing on stage
during a performance of "A Christmas Carole".
I used to be tucking him in bed at 7:00pm
and READING the story to him. Now he prefers
to watch this lovely young girl. How did
THAT happen!? He doesn't even call her
by name. He says "My girlfriend". *blink*
All the time it's "My girlfriend this...
my girlfriend that...." I don't think I
actually KNEW her name until I formally
met her.
his new school.
grade 7 to 12. A school I hadn't set
foot in since I graduated in 1984.
a teenager again. Except it was quiet.
Too quiet, thinking of the Good, the Bad
and Ugly whistling theme music here. Lucifer,
Damian and myself crept to the office, where I
officially institutionalized Damian for a
6 year incarcaration. Then took a tour of
the building I spent my teenage years cowering
in fear.
the grades 7 and 8. A hall I remembered vividly.
It was fairly dark now, it was August. You could
hear the echo of a whisper. I remembered how
deafening loud it was, when I went there. And
how everyone always got in trouble for yelling,
and you were NOT to run, you were to walk in an
orderly fashion. The Hallmonitor Nazis. Oh I
remember them well.
at my two boys. Mostly at the one who would be
attending this school that fall. And invited
them both to partake in ... the unthinkable.
An act punishable by detention. An act so
devious and criminal that we, as students,
rarely if ever crossed the line.
quiet hallway, past closed lockers, past
closed cell doors. And stood looking through
the murky blackness, to the very far other end.
I whispered..... "GO!"
We zigzagged, we slammed lockers, I believe
Lucifer, so caught up in the disorder, threw
his shoes. We created a ruckus in those
darkly shadowed halls that had we been
discovered, would have cost us a good
hour detention. We reached the other
end of the hall. Breathless, giggling.
Waiting for the principal to come after
us with his red face, sweat stained dress
shirt, huffing and puffing with his
oversized chest heaving.
of three seriously deranged people having
just run the length of the hall.
institutionalized there, and never once
broke the law of "No running and yelling".
I felt free. And thought about sneaking
a cigarette in the girl's bathroom.
is in grade 5. In two years he too will
be walking through the halls of my former
highschool.
there now. Which is hilarious. I mean... if he
teaches my kids, they will address him as
Mr Kulaa. If I have to have a
parent/teacher meeting with him, do I have to
address him as such? I mean, he could say
"Mrs McColl, Joey seems to have trouble
concentrating, and has not handed in several
assignments."
Remember the time I picked you and my
brother and all your jock friends off the
floor of the Pig's Ear, hurled your giggling
intoxicated forms into my car to dispose of
you at your various homes? Did you concentrate
on your schoolwork then? Hmmmm? No I didn't
think so, give my kid an A or I TELL!"
I remember, sitting at my desk, looking at
these 30something year old teachers, wondering
if they were able to dress themselves. Did they
have full time nurses attending to them at lunch?
How old they were. I'm older now then they were
when they taught me. What happens if I have
to have parent/teacher interviews with THEM???
Will they recognize me? Will they see me walk
into the room, look at Joey's grades and
behavioural patterns, and just say "Oh, he's
your son. It all makes perfect sense now."?
am native. My father is fullblooded Ojibwa
Indian. In "my day", it was just another
reason to tease someone. Which sucks.
Joey's class invited my father to speak about
his native heritage during their native studies
class. So he did. My mother and I came too.
teasing I got. "Ojibwa squaw", "half breed",
"Where's your tomahawk", amongst other things.
And I silently prayed that my son and my
father don't hear those things. We were
escorted to the teacher's lounge.
see THE TEACHERS LOUNGE?????
door, hoping to hear something. That room
was like the coveted WaterBuffalo Lodge.
NOBODY knew what went on in there, they
could be planning the demise of trouble-makers.
They could be doing ANYTHING in there! And
*I* was going to be the former-student who
steps foot into THE TEACHERS LOUNGE??? I
couldn't WAIT! I wanted to RUN! I KNEW they
had weird things in there. I had a list of
people to call already formed in my mind to tell
them everything I see in THE TEACHERS LOUNGE!
There were a coupla couches, a coat rack,
a coffeemaker and a mirror. Big stinking deal!
What a huge let-down. I could have cried.
deerskin pants and coat, the feather headdress,
the whole kitncabootle. He looked awesome.
I was so very very proud of him, more proud of
him that day than ever. And prouder still to be
beside him.
and was met with WOW! OOOH! AHHH! He held court
for an hour in there. It was over before we
knew it. The bell rang and we were being ushered
back to the lounge. But the halls were full.
People were looking at Dad, this towering Indian,
in full dress, walking their halls. But they
were not smirking, they were not whispering.
They were awestruck. They were amazed and they
were excited. And Dad was so proud. It was
all I could do to not cry right then and there.
Teenagers and teachers, in quiet and loud voices,
commenting with pride, with smiles and geniune
interest.
honest to God Indian for a grandfather. They
collect indian artifacts, they have their rooms
decorated with Indian trickets, new and old, some
bought, some donated by my father, things that
belonged to HIS father.
since I walked those halls, sat in those cells,
and prepared for life on the outside. Being
moulded and sculpted for ... life. I spent the
most important growing years of my life in that
place. Am I worried that my kids will be spending
THEIR most important growing years there? Not
in the least.
Take me home!
Main Dave's Chronicles