Sit back and get comfortable, gentle readers, for you are about to read a tale of childhood innocence, confusion, creative bravery, regular embarrassment, hideous embarrassment, and ultimately sweet, sweet redemption. Uh oh, this looks like it's going to be a long post.
Childhood Innocence
I went to a private elementary school through sixth grade. My last year, I'd become a sizeable fish there, playing on all four sports teams and nabbing some highly-coveted roles in plays. Along with that, I was friendly with almost all of my peers, and the teachers and administrators liked me and encouraged me. I enjoyed school, and never quite understood the kids who celebrated the last day of school like they'd just won the World Series. What could possibly go wrong in an environment like that?
Confusion
One word: Girls. I remember sitting around with some male friends, and the topic of girls in our class came up. For some reason, we were behind the curve and still used "love" for what we should've been calling "like like," such as, "Well I know you like her, but do you like like her?" We hadn't caught on to that yet, so one friend was openly telling us that he kinda loved this girl in our class. "Kinda love" isn't said much in adult days, but we totally knew what he meant. "Who do you love, Peter?" they asked me. I had no idea, but since they all seemed so sure of themselves, I must've loved somebody and just not realized it yet. I quickly thought of all my female friends in our class, and I really liked a lot of them quite a bit, but none even remotely romantically. My best female friend at the time was Mandy, so I told them with absolutely zero confidence, "Well, I guess I love Mandy."
Creative Bravery
"You have to tell her!" they demanded. I had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but they made it sound like that was the next inevitable step. You love somebody, then you tell her. Just as I was coming around to the idea of mentioning it to her at some point during recess, things got scarier: "How are you going to do it?" they asked. Shit, I hadn't realized that just telling her wasn't sufficient. (Please remember, this was 6th grade. I would now have no problem telling anyone to mind their own business and let me do things my way. Back then, my desires remained flexible to match those of the group.)
Here's where things fell apart. My brilliant plan was as follows: I told a kid named Jason P. (who we all knew Mandy loved, by the way) to tell Mandy that I had a special message for her. The message was the secret in the Beatles song, "Do You Want to Know a Secret." That is, "I'm in love with you," but she'd have to figure that out on her own if she didn't know the song because Jason wasn't instructed to tell her. I had to make it unnecessarily tricky. I think it's fair to assume that the virtues of direct communication weren't taught until later in life. In any case, Jason agreed, and he left to find Mandy as I waited, unsure of what I even wanted the response to be.
Regular Embarrassment
The next morning, Mandy came running up to me before class. "I got your message from Jason," she said, "and I ran home and asked my mom to sing me the song." "Oh," I said. "So...thank you," she said, then turned and walked away. I didn't know what to make of that, so I ignored it and hoped the whole situation would go away as quickly as possible. After recess that day though, I heard her telling her friend the story. "So Jason loves you?" the friend asked. "No, Peter does," Mandy replied. "Oh, ok," was the response.
A week passed, and Mandy and I still talked often but had successfully avoided the dreaded topic, and none of my male friends had brought it up either. So, my plan didn't exactly work, but I was no worse for the wear, right?
Hideous Embarrassment
It was about two weeks later that we had a substitute teacher. He was a cool, younger guy, and I'd sat and chatted with him during some of the breaks. When we only had about an hour left of class, he asked if I could do him a favor. I went to his car in the parking lot and brought his guitar case back to the classroom for an end-of-the-day treat. (I know you all can see where this is going, but I assure you it was the farthest thing from my mind.) For the last hour, we would be allowed to socialize and he'd play his guitar and sing for the class. I was with the guys off in one corner talking about normal boy stuff, and most of the girls were in a dense pack in front of the teacher.
He played one song and then a second. He sounded good, and the class (especially the girls) enjoyed having something different in the schoolday. Then he started the third song: "You'll never know how much I really love you/You'll never know how much I really care." For some reason, it hadn't kicked in yet. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. Then a few more notes, and then the fateful word: "Listen." Before he even finished the first line, I felt my face on fire. Before he finished the second line, the classroom was filled with laughter. I looked next to me and saw my male friends pointing and laughing, then turning, I caught Mandy and her friends laughing as well. The teacher stopped and followed everyone's pointed fingers to me. By this point, my face was so flushed that I could feel my eyes watering (not from crying - let me be clear about that). I walked toward the teacher and asked if I could go to the bathroom, hoping he could hear me about the cackling. "Are you ok?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "I just need to go to the bathroom," I urgently lied. He let me go, and I stewed in the bathroom for the next 20 minutes. I kept picturing a classmate named Amanda Nixon, pointing and laughing, and wondering who even told her the story since she wasn't good friends with Mandy. Clearly everyone knew, and if they hadn't, they were learning the story right then.
With a minute left of the day, I snuck back in, got my stuff, and left. It seemed that the teacher was cute enough that the girls thankfully forgot about me for the time being. I didn't argue, and I made it to my mom's car without encountering anyone from my class.
Sweet, Sweet Redemption
Even though it very rarely came up the rest of the year and it didn't seem to affect my social life negatively, I was still scarred by that experience. The one thing I kept thinking was that I should never have even been in that situation to begin with. If I had just told them that I didn't love any of the girls in our class, or that Mandy was just a friend, or that I loved some other made-up girl I met at camp, none of that would've happened. I lost contact with almost all of my classmates after graduation since we went to various junior highs, but the memory was still right there. Any time the subject of embarrassing moments came up, I knew my #1. In fact, I went so far as to say on multiple occasions that that situation was the only regret I had in my life. I know, heavy stuff.
And then five years later, something happened. I was in an SAT prep class with two friends, and who did we see? Mandy. We all chatted, talked about high school, asked if they knew so-and-so, etc. The whole time, I was just hoping she wouldn't mention that day in class. The four of us met up during the lunch break and headed over to the nearby Denny's. Midway through the meal, Mandy said, "Hey Peter, remember 'Do You Want to Know a Secret?'" I turned slightly red and answered, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I remember that." Then the most remarkable thing happened. Mandy said, "I know you were probably pressured into choosing someone to like, and since I was your best female friend, it was easy to confuse that." Almost word for frickin word of what I had been saying since that day. She got it, and since girls mature faster than boys, she probably understood my feelings even better than I did back in sixth grade.
From that day forward, I've held my head high when it comes to that horrifically embarrassing moment. I can't take back how it felt in those panicky moments, but I stopped regretting it and started viewing it as a learning experience. Namely, I learned to hate that substitute teacher for bringing his stupid guitar. And now when that song comes on, I can knowingly smile to myself instead of looking around anxiously and starting to sweat.
I once again lost touch with Mandy after that class (although I did see her on tv playing competitive dodgeball once and nearly spit out my drink). Ah, it feels good to get that story off my chest. Not many people's most embarrassing moment ends with a chapter called "Sweet, Sweet Redemption," so I'm thankful for that. Have a good day, gentle readers, and remember the perils of indirect communication.
Childhood Innocence
I went to a private elementary school through sixth grade. My last year, I'd become a sizeable fish there, playing on all four sports teams and nabbing some highly-coveted roles in plays. Along with that, I was friendly with almost all of my peers, and the teachers and administrators liked me and encouraged me. I enjoyed school, and never quite understood the kids who celebrated the last day of school like they'd just won the World Series. What could possibly go wrong in an environment like that?
Confusion
One word: Girls. I remember sitting around with some male friends, and the topic of girls in our class came up. For some reason, we were behind the curve and still used "love" for what we should've been calling "like like," such as, "Well I know you like her, but do you like like her?" We hadn't caught on to that yet, so one friend was openly telling us that he kinda loved this girl in our class. "Kinda love" isn't said much in adult days, but we totally knew what he meant. "Who do you love, Peter?" they asked me. I had no idea, but since they all seemed so sure of themselves, I must've loved somebody and just not realized it yet. I quickly thought of all my female friends in our class, and I really liked a lot of them quite a bit, but none even remotely romantically. My best female friend at the time was Mandy, so I told them with absolutely zero confidence, "Well, I guess I love Mandy."
Creative Bravery
"You have to tell her!" they demanded. I had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but they made it sound like that was the next inevitable step. You love somebody, then you tell her. Just as I was coming around to the idea of mentioning it to her at some point during recess, things got scarier: "How are you going to do it?" they asked. Shit, I hadn't realized that just telling her wasn't sufficient. (Please remember, this was 6th grade. I would now have no problem telling anyone to mind their own business and let me do things my way. Back then, my desires remained flexible to match those of the group.)
Here's where things fell apart. My brilliant plan was as follows: I told a kid named Jason P. (who we all knew Mandy loved, by the way) to tell Mandy that I had a special message for her. The message was the secret in the Beatles song, "Do You Want to Know a Secret." That is, "I'm in love with you," but she'd have to figure that out on her own if she didn't know the song because Jason wasn't instructed to tell her. I had to make it unnecessarily tricky. I think it's fair to assume that the virtues of direct communication weren't taught until later in life. In any case, Jason agreed, and he left to find Mandy as I waited, unsure of what I even wanted the response to be.
Regular Embarrassment
The next morning, Mandy came running up to me before class. "I got your message from Jason," she said, "and I ran home and asked my mom to sing me the song." "Oh," I said. "So...thank you," she said, then turned and walked away. I didn't know what to make of that, so I ignored it and hoped the whole situation would go away as quickly as possible. After recess that day though, I heard her telling her friend the story. "So Jason loves you?" the friend asked. "No, Peter does," Mandy replied. "Oh, ok," was the response.
A week passed, and Mandy and I still talked often but had successfully avoided the dreaded topic, and none of my male friends had brought it up either. So, my plan didn't exactly work, but I was no worse for the wear, right?
Hideous Embarrassment
It was about two weeks later that we had a substitute teacher. He was a cool, younger guy, and I'd sat and chatted with him during some of the breaks. When we only had about an hour left of class, he asked if I could do him a favor. I went to his car in the parking lot and brought his guitar case back to the classroom for an end-of-the-day treat. (I know you all can see where this is going, but I assure you it was the farthest thing from my mind.) For the last hour, we would be allowed to socialize and he'd play his guitar and sing for the class. I was with the guys off in one corner talking about normal boy stuff, and most of the girls were in a dense pack in front of the teacher.
He played one song and then a second. He sounded good, and the class (especially the girls) enjoyed having something different in the schoolday. Then he started the third song: "You'll never know how much I really love you/You'll never know how much I really care." For some reason, it hadn't kicked in yet. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. Then a few more notes, and then the fateful word: "Listen." Before he even finished the first line, I felt my face on fire. Before he finished the second line, the classroom was filled with laughter. I looked next to me and saw my male friends pointing and laughing, then turning, I caught Mandy and her friends laughing as well. The teacher stopped and followed everyone's pointed fingers to me. By this point, my face was so flushed that I could feel my eyes watering (not from crying - let me be clear about that). I walked toward the teacher and asked if I could go to the bathroom, hoping he could hear me about the cackling. "Are you ok?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "I just need to go to the bathroom," I urgently lied. He let me go, and I stewed in the bathroom for the next 20 minutes. I kept picturing a classmate named Amanda Nixon, pointing and laughing, and wondering who even told her the story since she wasn't good friends with Mandy. Clearly everyone knew, and if they hadn't, they were learning the story right then.
With a minute left of the day, I snuck back in, got my stuff, and left. It seemed that the teacher was cute enough that the girls thankfully forgot about me for the time being. I didn't argue, and I made it to my mom's car without encountering anyone from my class.
Sweet, Sweet Redemption
Even though it very rarely came up the rest of the year and it didn't seem to affect my social life negatively, I was still scarred by that experience. The one thing I kept thinking was that I should never have even been in that situation to begin with. If I had just told them that I didn't love any of the girls in our class, or that Mandy was just a friend, or that I loved some other made-up girl I met at camp, none of that would've happened. I lost contact with almost all of my classmates after graduation since we went to various junior highs, but the memory was still right there. Any time the subject of embarrassing moments came up, I knew my #1. In fact, I went so far as to say on multiple occasions that that situation was the only regret I had in my life. I know, heavy stuff.
And then five years later, something happened. I was in an SAT prep class with two friends, and who did we see? Mandy. We all chatted, talked about high school, asked if they knew so-and-so, etc. The whole time, I was just hoping she wouldn't mention that day in class. The four of us met up during the lunch break and headed over to the nearby Denny's. Midway through the meal, Mandy said, "Hey Peter, remember 'Do You Want to Know a Secret?'" I turned slightly red and answered, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I remember that." Then the most remarkable thing happened. Mandy said, "I know you were probably pressured into choosing someone to like, and since I was your best female friend, it was easy to confuse that." Almost word for frickin word of what I had been saying since that day. She got it, and since girls mature faster than boys, she probably understood my feelings even better than I did back in sixth grade.
From that day forward, I've held my head high when it comes to that horrifically embarrassing moment. I can't take back how it felt in those panicky moments, but I stopped regretting it and started viewing it as a learning experience. Namely, I learned to hate that substitute teacher for bringing his stupid guitar. And now when that song comes on, I can knowingly smile to myself instead of looking around anxiously and starting to sweat.
I once again lost touch with Mandy after that class (although I did see her on tv playing competitive dodgeball once and nearly spit out my drink). Ah, it feels good to get that story off my chest. Not many people's most embarrassing moment ends with a chapter called "Sweet, Sweet Redemption," so I'm thankful for that. Have a good day, gentle readers, and remember the perils of indirect communication.
*Remember, please email ptklein@gmail.com with questions, opinions, or possible future topics of conversation. I need all the help I can get.*
1 comment:
I totally remember that story and I though it was going to come up in the previous day's blog. I thought that you were younger than that. I thought it was like 2nd grade because I thought I was still at the school. I also expected to hear about the "hot water Peter" "Peter we can see you" and everyone's favorite..."Hi, I'm An-dre-a". Oh, well. In a later post I assume.
- KK
Thanks for the word about Gloria, I'll show Weezie.
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