......finding a new home for lutefisk lovers.

(ok we don't love it. or even like it. but we're supposed to.)

11 November 2011

Oh My God, I Hate Gym

The flyer said:

PE Night!
Come learn about what your child does in physical education!

I'm almost positive, although I wouldn't swear to it, that the word "curriculum" was mentioned.  If it wasn't actually on the flyer,  it was certainly implied.

And so I put PE Night on my calendar and put a pen and a notebook in my purse for taking notes.

When we arrive at PE Night,  I instinctively duck as we enter a gym filled with grown up children whipping playground balls at each other.   It's a response I can't shake after getting hit in the face with a frisbee in 1985 (Marcia Brady says "My nose!"  And, yes, it was broken.  And ugly.  And I had to wear full make-up to the beach to cover up my black eye.  Ok, I would've done that anyway in 1985 but still).

So I duck and hold my hand over my nose...........it looks like they're making us play a game first.   Shit.   Whatever,  I can be a good sport.   Mike is psyched and immediately starts chucking balls as hard as he can at complete strangers.   People who could be our neighbors.   I fake enthusiasm and play along until a bowling pin ricochets off the top of my foot  -  a spot that was newly healed after a putt putt golf accident that broke my foot in two places (putt putt golf is dangerous!  Not as dangerous as frisbee but be careful out there, people!).  I get pissed and limp over to the sidelines to take off my shoe.   Mike sees me and snickers.......and then chucks another ball as hard as he can.

"OH MY GOD,  HOW OLD ARE YOU?!"   I say.  Out loud.  Really out loud.

Shortly thereafter, the gym teachers start collecting the balls and directing us outside.   Finally.   Are they doing the presentation outside?   Should I get my pen?

They bring us to the baseball diamond and divide us into 2 teams.   Christ on a bike.

They quickly explain the rules for tennis ball which is baseball with a tennis racket.   My team is in the outfield first, and I strategically place myself in the back near the sideline because everyone knows the ball never goes there.   I look for someone to talk to.   I stand and chat with another mom while a ball rolls by us   -   and a dad tries to hide the fact he's mildly pissed.

It is in this moment that I realize that there will be no presentation of the physical education curriculum.   This is PE Night.

It is also in this moment that 1979 and 2011 cosmically converge;   they are existing simultaneously on this stupid tennis ball field.  Or diamond.  Or whatever.   And I groan and say,  "Oh my god,  I hate gym."

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