Chapter 12

While dressing down for Gym I didn't sense any lascivious gaze, so that was a good sign. When we got in the gym, we found Mr. Barlow, the History teacher waiting for us. He was our temporary replacement, as Miss Berrigan was out on sick leave. Mr. Barlow was in no way as cute and fit as Miss Holly, but on the other hand, he didn't cause us torture, cognitive dissonance, and painful, embarassing erections. He was a short ;man of increasing girth and decreasing hair, and he had rebelled at putting on shorts and wearing a whistle.

Wearing brown corduroy slacks and a gray herringbone tweed with leather patches on the elbows, he lined us up, counted us off split us into two groups, and told us we were to keep ourselves in the same group for any future class he was in charge of. A few of us self adjusted, swapping back and forth when he wasn't looking, to remain with comrades, and avoid enemies, or at least rivals.

He started with traditional jumping jacks, squats, duck walks, pushups and sit ups. He wasn't very imaginative, and he had us put the large gym mats under the two pieces of permanent equipment which were very seldom used, probably due to fear of lawsuits these days, the peg board and the climbing rope. The rope had a bell at its top, which was to be rung to indicate you had reached the top, and to signal for the stopwatch to be stopped.

Each group was to challenge the equipment, and the best time would become team captain, and get to name the team. Three people couldn't climb the rope, and the others took so long, it seemed that class would be over before even one team completed the ascent. Putting two of the more responsible seeming boys on the rope as spotters, he took the team I was part of over to the peg board. I could have told him that the two spotters were quieter and goofing off less because they were stoners, and were so high from toking their morning bud that they were almost comatose.

I didn't tell him that, because adults might not realize it, but a kid high up a rope or in a tree will usually hang on much tighter than they would think. Unless they were trying to show off for the same adult. "Look ma, no hands!" Besides, they were as good, or as bad a choice of spotter as any other kid. What do you think the instinctive reaction would be for any Sophomore student if a flailing falling screaming body plunged toward you from twenty plus feet? Actually, the ceiling in the gym was fifty feet, but any kid who was likely to fall wouldn't make it up that high before falling ... Yes, they would jump back out of the way, exactly.

At the peg board, Mr. Barlow had to lift the kids up to the pegs, and none could raise themselves and put the pegs in. One boy got two lifts with one arm and one with the other to place the pegs just out of reach when he couldn't maintain his grip and fell back, leaving the pegs behind. Mr. Barlow had to lift one of the scrawniest kids up to get them out, severely straining his endurance.

Mr. Barlow in frustration cried out that if anyone could climb the peg board up and back, and climb the rope in less than four minutes from floor to bell could teach the class themselves. I asked him respectfully, "Sir, do you really mean it?"

"Yes, anyone who is in that good of shape knows more about fitness than I do, and I will even become one of the students. I can tell I am out of shape, and it would be a good excuse for me to start a good exercise program."

I looked around but no one seemed interested in accepting the challenge. I sighed but raised my hand, and said that I would bet that I could do it. I told him I would do the rope first, since there was a time limit on that, and none on the peg board. Stepping over to the rope, I took off my shoes and socks, and found a chalk dispenser on the wall, to chalk my hands with. Making sure Mr. Barlow had his stopwatch ready, I told him to start the time when he was ready.

He clicked the large loud stopwatch, and I began my climb. I went at a steady pace, not racing but making certain of my hands and feet, my bare legs and feet providing a sure grip and my chalk hands not slipping, I reached the top and slapped the clapper. The ticking stopped, and there was silence as I came back down the rope, hand over hand, my feet dangling.

"Forty-seven seconds." said Mr. Barlow hoarsely. Oops, I had over-achieved somewhat. Any gymnast could do better, a little, though. Oh Kay, let's see how I can do on the peg board, I thought. I took a peg in each hand, and with a running jump at the wall, I could get my hand up to the hole, but couldn't get the peg in before falling back. Mr. Barlow and two other students managed to get me up high enough to get the first peg inserted in the lowest hole. I swung up in a one armed pull up, and inserted the left handed peg in the next highest hole.

Keeping myself in chinned up position, I kept quickly jerking the pegs out and inserting them in the next highest hole while swinging my body from side to side, using the momentum to lessen my weight momentarily as I moved the peg. When I got to the top, I asked in a slightly strangled voice if I needed to hit every hole on the way down, and Mr. Barlow answered in an equally constrained voice that just getting down with both pegs and in a controlled fashion would be sufficient.

I came down skipping every other hole, sometimes skipping two holes. It was strange to me to realize that I was the strongest Sophomore in the school, and possibly the strongest student. Maybe I was even the most fit person period, but I didn't know what kind of training the football players had. I wouldn't bet they could make it to the top of the peg board, though.

Mr. Barlow was a man of his word, and handed me the clipboard with the roster on it. He offered me his prized stopwatch, but I waved it away. I dissolved the teams, re-integrating the class into one unit, since I couldn't be two places at the same time, and had everyone line up against the wall.

"Ok, we will start out with something easy. You can sit air-chair against the wall, thighs at a 45 degree angle to the wall, that is straight out from the wall, or, if you get tired of sitting, you can lean against the wall, as long as you form a right triangle, keeping your body straight. Leaning and sitting, that shouldn't be so hard, right?" I challenged them.

I walked up and down the line, almost everyone started by leaning, and I made a few inch their feet back, and a few more put their heels down. After one minute, there were some groans of pain as tight calves were stretched I encouraged them to breathe into it, and try for a little bit longer. Then I called for a switch to air-chair. They all put their backs to the wall, lowering down until their laps were straight across. I had a few get down lower, and a few come back up a bit.

It was uncomfortable even sooner than the wall lean, and there was muttered cursing and groaning. I suggested tightening their abdomens would help, and offered that anyone could go back to the wall lean if they preferred. I was amazed at how many stuck it out for so long, almost a minute and a half. Two of the boys lasted a whole two minutes, and I told them 'well done'.