I had the pleasure of spending about an hour in the student parking lot of West High this morning. A friend of mine had her car stranded there so I called the tow truck while she went to work.
The first thing I noticed when I pulled in was how empty the parking lot was. About half of the spaces were empty. Clearly things have changed since the eighties. For one thing, there was not one orange Pinto to be seen. And there were no convertible VW’s with vanity plates reading IMTOPLS.
While I waited in the hot sun for the very unfriendly tow truck driver to eventually show up, I was fortunate enough to be witness several P.E. classes in action. First, of course, they had to line up on their numbers. This task was completed with the help of several bellowing PE teachers and what sounded like fifty shrill whistles. Once the green shorted, white shirt clad students had been sufficiently corralled the instructors lead the teens in a vigorous round of calisthenics. In addition to leg lunges, and wind mills, each and every teacher demanded that the students complete what they called “Viking Jacks.” They did not have “Viking Jacks” when I went to West. We just had plain ol’ “Jumping Jacks.” Clearly we missed out. With “Viking Jacks” the students yell out “V – I – K – I – N – G – S – VIKINGS” while jumping around like spastic drunks. And for some reason it was particularly important that they yell as loud as they could. Students were threatened with another round of “Viking Jacks” if they did not yell loud enough.
After sending the students to jog around the basketball courts, the classes gathered in the tennis courts. (I’m sure a few of them were wondering what was up with the old lady sitting on her car watching them. I look kinda pervy that way.) I thought it would be fun to watch the teachers attempt to teach those kids how to play tennis. But instead of tennis rackets, the instructors pulled out strange little wooden paddles and white rubber balls. Positioning about four kids on each side of the net, the students were to hit the ball back and forth to each other under threat of more “Viking Jacks.” It was quite a sight.
I couldn’t help but think of the sad state of our education system when we can no longer afford to teach our students actual sports and are forced to supplement with what is clearly supposed to be park recreation. Sure, I hated P.E., who didn’t? But least I know I did in fact learn something. I learned the rules of tennis; even I never did learn how to hit the ball. I learned how to play badminton, and volley ball, and basketball. I didn’t learn how to waste time with a paddle.
No wonder this country is so fat.
Stumble It!
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