Back In My Element: Step 28

Making the transition from being at the top of one’s game and admired by all the younger kids to being at the bottom of the barrel in a hormone-driven environment where everyone older wants to achieve acceptance by either verbally or physically assaulting the contemptuous newly arrived fodder is difficult enough, but when one is clearly out of his element the circumstance becomes unbearable. So, it was with those five and a half months I endured the humiliation of being a 7B at John Muir Junior High. Now, I personally have nothing against John Muir. He was arguably the most significant conservationist of his or any time. Without his efforts we may not have the fantastic national park system this country has to offer. Another significant contributor to American history, who along with his brother launched the field of aviation and whose name adorned the school where many of my friends from Grantosa went during those same five and a half months, was Wilbur Wright. Again, I harbor no ill will toward Mr. Wright; it’s just that kids living south of Hampton Avenue, many of who had become close friends during our formative years, attended said school. Finally, the day after Labor Day arrived and we were headed for the brand spanking new Samuel Morse Junior High. Yes, the same Samuel Morse who invented the telegraph and the dit-dot code that bore his name. The telegraph became the first method of electronic communication and the predecessor to the telephone, internet and blogosphere. Without Sam readers might be turning a page at this point in the story. But, I digress. Leaving Lancaster Avenue and heading down 83^rd Street I stopped to get my cousin Jimmy, who now that he was a 7B wanted to be called Jim, and was glad to be walking next to a higher status 7A. In a few years when the school system dropped midyear entry and completion the B-A distinction would be just a faded memory. It was good to see Gordy and Gary H. again. I felt like I was back in my element, but there were a lot of new faces. Entering the white brick-building students could practically see their reflection in the highly polished floors. Climbing two flights of stairs to the third floor I entered my new homeroom and sat next to Gary S. We knew we were going to be assigned seats, but we took the couple minutes before the bell to get caught up. Then, a man with a broad chest wearing a short sleeve shirt and simple striped tie stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, wrote his name on the chalkboard, and introduced himself as Mr. Grotbeck. He told us he had been a teacher at Peckham Junior High, a school my mother attended. We would soon learn that many of the teachers at the new school had transferred there from Peckham, and like a few of the other male teachers Mr. Grotbeck had been a marine. As he assigned students to the seats they would take for the next two and a half years I had no way of knowing what an impact he would have on me. During this time a president would be assassinated, four British musicians would change the face of popular culture, and I would undergo many rights of passage not the least of which was my impending Bar Mitzvah. Your comments, criticisms, anecdotes, thoughts and ideas are all welcome.