Hate It or Love It
by Nick Perovich
After my fourth grade year, my elementary school was going under construction so we were going to be moved to another school across town. My mom felt it was time for my education to be better than a public one. I was not to enthusiastic by the idea of going to a private school, having to make new friends, and have to reestablish myself to all the teachers. I refused to participate in anything that would take me away from my friends and my school that was built in the 1920’s and had rats, leaks in the bungalows and hallways, basketball backboards without the rims and the faded four squares on the rocky asphalt. I loved the recesses and lunch periods that involved playing football with the kids that I had class with. I didn’t want to be taken away from Mr. Price and his jolly ranchers. No, I didn’t stand for it.
My mom overlooked my opinion and looked around the area for a school that offered “the best learning environment for my baby child”, she told me when I asked. I chose not to accompany my mom to visit the schools that would take me away to world of change and starting over.
One summer morning I woke up, walked to the kitchen and started to fix myself a bowl of cereal when my mom’s voice broke into the morning fog in my head “we are going to McDonalds so don’t eat anything yet.” Joy filled my body. I was wide awake now: excited about taking on the day with an Egg McMuffin and hash browns in my system. When 1 was younger, my mom discouraged fast food restaurants, like any parent should do to raise a healthy child. However, today was a great day. Today was a McDonalds day. After opting for the drive-thai and grabbing our food, we were on our way to somewhere, I didn’t care where we were going: I had McDonalds in front of me1 Iasked my mom through a mouthful of food “Where are we going?” She replied ready to battle “To your new school.” The scrumptious food in my mouth turned to putrid milk. I had realized what she was doing and it made me angry.
We soon arrived to a street that looked extremely peaceful and secure, ideal for an education institution, but where was the school. My mom had walked ahead of me and turned around to see why I wasn’t following suit. “Where is the school?” I demanded in anger and confusion. She pointed to a house. We ambled into the friendly confines of a vintage townhouse with a playground surrounding the back and one of the sides of the house. We walked into the house and found it to be much like an administrators office. A couple of people behind a three-sided desk with scattered papers in front of them writing while on the phone. In the office, the back wall had huge windows that overlooked the entire schoolyard. There was a classroom to the left and a hallway with lighting that resembled a French castle. While my mother spoke with one of the people behind the desk I found solace in a fish tank that was beside the front doorway. I poked at the fishes thinking about how nice it would be to be watching television or throwing the football around. “Nicholas, could you come over here please.” I hated it when people used my full name but it especially stung because I my tank was already full with anger. I walked over to the lady behind the desk and hid my resentment. I had to answer a couple of verbal questions while my mother was methodically filling out some papers across the room. A man in a suit stepped out of a hidden room and introduced himself to my mom and exchanged a couple of introductory words. Then he glanced at me and headed in my direction. I then thought it was going to be a long day.
He introduced himself as the principal, Mr. B. He then took me into the adjacent classroom and sat me down at a desk and put a test in front of me. I thought that there was something wrong. I had not been given a test in a couple of weeks and I was not trying to break that streak. He then informed me that this was an exam that showed how much intelligence and character I had and if I was right for the school. I wasn’t for it in any manner. I swallowed gracefully, smiled and nodded, and preceded to starting the entrance exam. I critically considered failing on purpose and show my mom that public school was where I fit and I wouldn’t grow in a private setting. On the other shoulder I thought that I didn’t want to lose. I hated losing. I had a reputation to withhold and I wouldn’t make all of those A’s in elementary school look bad in front of a private school. I wanted to show that I could run with those private schoolers.
A couple of weeks later we had gotten word that I had passed the entrance exam with ~flying colors” and was anxiously accepted into that school. I decided from the minute I walked on the premises that I didn’t want to attend that school that had roughly 140 kids in nine grades. I denied to go but to no avail. My mom signed me up and I had to tell my friends that I wouldn’t be following the migration to Franklin School next fall. I felt alone and abandoned. All of my friends were talking about how different it would be to go to a new site and have a new playground to play on. On the other side of the token, 1 wondered how cool it would be to be “the new kid”. I speculated if 1 was going to meet new friends and have as much, if not more, fun than I had at Thousand Oaks.
I don’t think I have answered more questions about school than I had before in my life that summer. Whenever my mom’s friends came over they would ask me about how I felt about switching schools and leaving everyone behind. I felt like a damn broken record, telling them all the same “It will be fine to go there but I will miss my friends”. That seemed like the most political answer and not a response that would spark anymore discussion about the matter. 1 had many thoughts about the situation and it seemed that I dreaded starting at that private school. I thought it was the oddest thing to have a school in a house! On top of that, there was no fit area to play football: just a wall that resembled the Green Monster in Fenway Park to play handball. At least there was a better painted four square outline than at TO.. I guess 1 will be playing a lot of handball and climbing on the monkey bars.
D-Day had arrived a lot faster than sought. My mom woke me up and instructed me to get dressed and get ready to go to school. I wanted to argue but its too late now and I would be wasting breath that would be needed later. I got dressed like any other day and went to the kitchen to grab a bowl of my Cocoa Puffs. I watched my mom put my lunchables and juice box in my brand new lunch bag with a cooler compartment. Yes, my food was still cold at lunchtime. We hopped in the car and began the journey across town. We passed my old school which was being torn down. Why couldn’t I walk to school like I always did?
I was particularly nervous to see how this negatively anticipated day would pan out. We got to the school early so my mom could fill out some
paperwork. We walked into the main office and my mom exchanged words with the people behind the desk. My palms were sweating and I was really hot. I felt that once I stepped into the office, I had a spotlight on me, following my every flinch. I felt watched by everyone, to see who I was and why I was encroaching onto uncharted territory. The people behind the desk weren’t nervous, this was a regular day for them. The kids weren’t nervous, they had gone to that school since kindergarten. Even the fishes weren’t nervous, they were just getting on with their lives. Was there anyone to relate to? When will the light cease shining?
After about fifteen minutes of self-induced isolation gazing out of the window, a bell rang. My mom was still filling out paperwork and I was instructed to go to the playground and line up with my class. 1 went outside as my mind was racing a mile a minute. I glanced everywhere, like I had gotten off the boat from Europe. I found nine lines as I searched for the line that was formed under the paper that read ~5tt1 Grade”. I got behind what seemed to be my whole class. I maintained staring down, hoping that I wouldn’t be noticed and that looking down would make me invisible. Mr. B was in front of the school and made a speech. Before long we were heading upstairs to our classrooms. I followed suit, hoping nobody would see a random kid with a pale face following their class. We reached the classroom and were told were our designated seats were. Ironically, the limelight got stronger as I was placed in the middle of the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I thought both frustrated and scared. My mom then came into the room and gave me my lunch and blew a kiss at me from the doorway. My face ran red and I quickly looked down at the wood desk. Can this day get any worse?
After my teacher Mrs. Hinds made her announcements, she quickly introduced me to the whole class. Why couldn’t I have just been ignored? The spotlight was burning a hole in my shirt. I don’t remember much else from the first day, just that all eyes were on me. All I wanted to do was play football.
The fifteen minute drive from my house to the other house everyday became the worst car rides of my life. My mom and I would listen to 98. 1 and a bunch of funk as I would remember the homework that I forgot to do the night before. Too late now. Everyday. A couple of weeks into the school year had gone the polar opposite of what I wanted. At first I was asked a lot of questions. ~Where are you from? Why are you here?” “Yo, I’m from across town not from across the galaxy!”. Then they slowly went from curious and inquisitive kids to scoffing condescending sheep. Evidently, there were leaders in the class and everybody else followed suit. Once all 11 saw that the 3 leaders in the class rejected me, they turned their backs. I wasn’t talked to by anybody except for one of the kids that had found himself in a similar situation a year before. Josh was shunned in the 4ttI grade and never climbed out of the hole. We both had a mutual need for a friend.
At lunch times, Josh and I would go to the playground and eat our food under the play structure. We had usual conversations about video games and school. He wasn’t a person that I would’ve hung out with at my old school, but he was all I had. After we would emerge from the play structure, we always got dry comments. “What were YOU guys doing together?!” was always the most used. Josh seemed that he got picked on before I got there so it looked like he was somewhat relieved to have someone to share the load. Whenever we would go towards those kids at lunch, I would just keep my head down and pray that they wouldn’t see me. They always did. I never saw the paint trail, but I swore that there was always a bull’s eye right on my back.
At recess times the kids would play handball or four square. There was no football. My competitive nature wanted to play something, even if I would be picked on. Usually, Josh and I would sit on the side, talk, and watch from a safe distance. He wasn’t the active type. Lie was interested in books and cartoons. 1 can’t recall him handling a ball of any kind.
I sometimes would forego Josh’s discussions and go play with the oppressors. Four square would be brutal. It turned Out that their four square was vastly different. They had a bunch of restrictions and rules that I had never heard of ~‘Bus stops, slammies, slicers, and whammies.” Was a typical list of allowed rules. I always was reacquainted with slammies. Everytime I would get into the game, the server would soft serve his friend so his friend can just pummel the ball in my square. I never made it to the 4th square. I’d always get heckled about having to make the trip to the back of the line. “Where you at new kid? Not quick enough? You suck!”. “Where’s the piqskin at? Why can’t we play a new game like, see if you can guard me?” four square they dominated, maybe because it was 5 on 1. We never played the games that I was good at. No football, no slaughterhouse, no nothing. I had had enough. This situation just wasn’t going to Bobby Fischer away. IT was time to “tell a grown-up
I went to the principal’s office one day during a recess that involved picking at my confidence. I hated snitching. At Thousand Oaks, when someone would snitch, I would look at them as a coward and a feeble human being. However, scenery changed and I was no longer king of the playground. After explaining who was giving me the difficulty and what troubles they were giving me, Mr.B then decided to call in each kid individually. Returning to the playground with a cowardly feel was the worst I have felt about myself As the kids returned, their eyes would lock and gleam at me. I did my best to avoid the lasers as I sat isolated near the playground.
Word got around that I had told on everybody and it seemed like I had made a catastrophic. On Mr. B’s orders, no one was to heckle me or suspension would ensue. Subtle comments under their breath would be lost in the wind. ~‘Are you gonna tell on us now?” they would say. I didn’t want to go back to Mr. B. I had no integrity left.
A couple of months passed and so did the insults. They realized that I wasn’t going to go away. I started playing more and more four square and hand ball with them with more confidence. As my play progressed, so did our friendships. In the second half of the year, we ate and talked together at lunch. They actually seemed normal. Their love of sports came out and we connected. The rest of the year went smoothly, with the exception of my grades.
After my classmates new found appreciation for me, my friendship with Josh seemed to sail out to sea. I would sometimes talk to him but I never hung out with him like I used to. I wouldn’t make fun of him in his absence like the others would. In retrospect, I should’ve maintained some sort of friendship, but it didn’t seem like he was greatly affected.
I had fun but my favorite question was: When am I gonna go back the public school, Ma?”