First Day of School - By Cameron James Richard Philip Hand

First Day of School

By Cameron James Richard Philip Hand

I was in sixth grade when my dad told me the story about his school years; it was October or November, I’m not exactly sure, but I do know it was early in the school year. I had gotten a few low test scores and then a couple of my teachers claimed I was “acting up” in class. Oh yea, one more thing, my school bus driver called my mother and without any proof he told my mother I yelled, “Who farted?” on the way home from school. Based on the way my mother reacted to the news of my minor, youthful indiscretions you would have thought I had been arrested for armed robbery. I tried to explain to her it was “no big deal”; but did she agree, did she understand? NO, she blew the whole thing out of proportion! When my dad got home from work that night she told him EVERYTHING!

When he pulled into the driveway my mother sent me to my room. She said, “Cameron go to your room, I need to talk to your father.” From my room I tried to listen but they talked quietly and the TV was on; all I think I heard was an occasional, “Ken, you need to do something!” A short while later my dad called me and asked me to come downstairs; I took a deep breath, opened my door, and walked down the steps to the family room where my parents were still sitting on the couch. My mom got up and left the room; my dad looked at me and said in a calm, clear voice, “Cam, come here and sit down”. At first I didn’t sit down, I just moved closer to my dad and leaned against the arm of the couch. He looked at me, raised his left eyebrow and sternly said, “Cam, sit down on this couch - NOW.” I quickly sat down next to him. We didn’t talk for long - actually we didn’t talk at all – he did all the talking. My dad said he expects me to “behave” on the bus and especially in school; he went on to tell me how proud he is of me and how he knows if I focus on school I could be a straight-A student. He also promised to help me with Math and Social Studies to get me there. Although I wasn’t sure I could be a straight-A student I decided my best course of action was to nod my head in agreement and say, “Yes sir” often.

Surprisingly, for the next several weeks life was good; my dad helped me study, I got several good grades, I even got a few 100’s - I was a model student! Since I was consistently getting good grades I told my dad, “Thanks, but I don’t need anymore help – I can do it on my own.” My dad told me he was proud of the way I’d turned around my grades and that if I wanted to do it on my own - that was fine with him. He added, “If you need any help Cam - just let me know.”

For the next several weeks I continued to study hard on my own and the grades I received were still high B’s and A’s. Unfortunately, as the school year dragged on I began to spend less and less time and effort studying and I began to spend more and more time having fun with my friends both on the bus and in school. It wasn’t long before my grades started reflecting my efforts. One day I received two tests back; I got a 54% on a Math test and a 72% on a Social Studies test. To make matters worse that day, I had a run-in with the substitute bus driver on the way home. I think the regular driver must have “warned” her about me because she had it out for me from the time I stepped on the bus. All I did was turn around in my seat and talk to some of my friends. She yelled at me to turn around and sit down – I did what she told me to do but that wasn’t enough for her. She yelled at me, “Don’t roll your eyes at me!” I didn’t roll my eyes at her – I told her, “I don’t even know how to roll my eyes.” She then said, “Don’t talk back to me!” Our conversation went downhill from there – I won’t bore you with the details.

These little indiscretions might have gone unnoticed except for some ill-timed bad luck: (1) I left my book bag open on the kitchen counter, (2) My math test (with the 54% on the top right corner) was sticking out of my book bag, (3) My dad took the day off, (4) and the substitute bus driver called my house to complain about me “acting up on the bus”.

When I got home from school I saw my dad sitting in his chair watching the News on television and I asked him what he was doing home so early. He said he decided to take the day off to take care of a few errands. I put my book bag down, sat down on the couch, and asked my dad if I could put on UFC to watch “Liddell vs. Silva”. He said sure and he got up to get something from the kitchen.

It’s was at this point it all fell apart for me. As my dad was making a sandwich on the counter he noticed my math test, then he opened my book bag and found my social studies test. Before he had a chance to say anything to me the phone rang and I heard him say, “Yes, I am Cameron’s father…substitute bus driver…he did what…I apologize…I will take care of it.” When I looked at him I could see he was upset. I won’t go into the details of what happened next but let me say my calm, cool father, who rarely loses his temper with me – lost his temper with me! He sat down next to me on the couch, he was breathing heavy, his forehead was all wrinkled, and his eyebrows were scrunched together. He started talking; he said a lot to me, something about “knowing I can get good grades”, something about “helping me again”, something about “being proud of me”, but the words I remember most were, “no more cell phone”, “no more Face Book”, “no more TV until homework is done”, he might as well have said, “NO MORE FUN!”

At the time I couldn’t believe he was doing this to me because of a couple of low grades and a complaint from a substitute bus driver. I was upset and without thinking I blurted out, “I tried, I really tried, but I’m not perfect! I’m sorry I’m not as good at school as you were. I bet you were a straight-A student and you think it’s easy!”

After I said this my dad had a baffled look on his face. He said, “You think I was a straight-A student when I went to school?” I told him, “Of course, you’re really smart - you know everything. You get all the questions right on Jeopardy and you always know how to do my homework.”

My dad said, “I’m glad you think I’m smart, and you're right I do get most of the answers right on Jeopardy, but it’s not because school was easy for me. Whatever I know didn’t come easy for me – I had to work very hard to learn the things I know. When I was your age, and when I was Kelsie’s age I made a lot of mistakes which made my life a lot harder than it needed to be. You don't know this but I actually dropped out of high school when I was very young. I don’t want to put too much pressure on you and I certainly don’t want to live my life through you but I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I made when I was your age. You are much smarter than I was at your age; you’ve proven that if you put in some reasonable effort into your studies you can be a straight-A student. But just to let you know, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this to you, if you put in the study time and the effort and you don’t get all A’s I’m okay with that. As long as you try your best, as long as you put in a reasonable amount of study time, as long as you behave yourself in school you won’t hear me complain and you certainly won’t be punished.”

I asked him if I do that can I have my phone back and can I use Face Book. He told me, “Yes, but you’ll have to prove to me you are serious about it.” He wouldn’t tell me how long I had to show him I was serious; he just said, “Cam, just focus on school and your behavior. Don’t worry about the phone or Face Book and I’m sure you’ll get them back before you know it.”

Even though I wasn’t happy with my punishment I felt a little better after he said I’ll get my stuff back before I know it. I felt better but I was also curious – curious about my dad and school. I never knew my dad was a high school drop out and I couldn’t believe he wasn’t a straight-A student. I asked him if he could tell me what kind of student he was when he was my age. This seemed to lighten the mood in the living room a bit, he smiled at me and said, “Are you sure you want to know the whole sordid details of my school years?” I wasn’t sure what sordid meant but I did want to hear about his school years and so I said, “Yea.”

It was at this time Kelsie came home. I told Kelsie, “Dad is about to tell me a story about him and school.” Kelsie didn’t act too interested – she sat down on the recliner and said, “Oh, okay”, and then changed the channel on the television to Hannah Montana.

My dad started out, he said in a loud voice, “Alright, I guess Kelsie doesn’t want to hear about the deepest, darkest secrets of my life. The stories I’ve always planned on keeping hidden from you kids! That’s okay, it’s probably better that she doesn’t know about my SORDID past – are you ready to hear about my SORDID past Cam?”

Kelsie pretended to yawn as if she wasn’t really paying attention and I said, ‘Yea dad. I want to hear about it!’ My dad said, “Alright you’ve asked for it CAM – YOU, NOT KELSIE are about to hear the DEEPEST, DARKEST SECRETS OF MY LIFE! You’re about to hear about the time when I turned from a nice, innocent, wholesome boy - to a wild, untamed, rebel without a cause!!”

Kelsie chimed in, “Dad, YOU, a rebel without a cause? I don’t exactly know what that is but I’m sure you weren’t one!”

My dad looked at Kelsie through the corner of his eye and he began, “It happened on the first day of kindergarten…”

Kelsie sat up in her chair and laughed, “Kindergarten dad! Kindergarten! You became a rebel without a cause while you were in kindergarten! That’s hilarious. How can a person become wild and untamed in kindergarten? I guess I should listen to this story because I’m interested to find out how a five year old becomes a ‘rebel without a cause’.”

My dad smiled and said, “Well missy, if you turn off Hannah Montana and pay attention you’ll find out. After my story is over you tell me if I became untamed in kindergarten. Now, will you let me finish the story?

Alright, where was I. Oh yea. Wait; let me backup a little bit to the time before I attended kindergarten. When I was four or five years old, I was so nice and innocent; I’d go along to get along. My mother said I was an independent, self sufficient child – and just as sweet as could be – until the day I CHANGED! I have to be honest, as a pre-school young man I was naïve, I saw the world threw rose colored glasses. I thought life consisted of cereal, Sesame Street, Cartoons, Soap Operas, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. My privileged, patrician upbringing insulated me from the cold hard reality of the world but, as every four or five year old knows, this elite life style has to come to an end sometime. For me I knew it was about to come to a crashing halt when my mother said the big FOUR LETTER word to me – SCHOOL!”

Kelsie laughed again and said, “Dad, “school” has six letters.”

“Well, ‘Miss I like to interrupt my father’, I couldn’t spell at the time and school sure sounded like a four letter word to me! Where was I? Oh yea. Although my mother tried to convince me school was a great opportunity for me and I would love it – I knew I didn’t want my life of leisure to come to an end.

The night before the dreaded day my mom put my clothes out on the foot of my bed: a yellow turtle neck, green pants, fruit of the looms, tube socks, and hush puppies. All my clothes, except for the tube socks, were brand new. The next day when I woke up for school I put them on; it felt like millions of little ants were crawling all over my body! After I got dressed I went downstairs to eat my Cheerios and to watch my last episode of Sesame Street. After one of the finest performances of “One of These Things Is Not Like the Other” my mom said, “Kenny it’s time to go outside to wait for the bus.” Solemnly I stood up, I scratched myself all over my body (the ants were still crawling on me), walked over to Tipper and gave him a hug goodbye. I then walked the long green mile to my bus stop – just outside my front door.”

Kelsie asked my dad, “What’s the long green mile.”

My dad responded, “When a person, who is in prison, is about to be executed they call the walk from the prison cell to the electric chair – the long green mile. Do you get the symbolism here?”

I said, “I don’t know what symbolism is but we get it now - you can continue.”

“Okay. So outside my front door, while we waited for the bus to come, my mom tried to lighten the mood; she laughed and joked about how much fun school was going to be but she also mentioned how much she was going to miss me. Then BAM! The realization of how my life was about to change hit me like a ton of bricks! But it was more than that; not only was my life about to change – my mother’s life was going to change too! I started thinking; this is the end of our quality mother/son time – no more Sesame Street, no more Electric Company, no more cartoons, no more “sands through the hour glass”, NO MORE “THESE ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES”! I couldn’t do this to my mother. What would she do during the day without her favorite son to keep her company? No! I couldn’t and wouldn’t do this to my mother!

But before I could do anything - I saw it! A huge yellow school bus was barreling down Riverside Drive toward my house – it came to a complete stop right outside the front of my house. The door opened and inside I saw a scary old man with bad teeth who was preparing to take me away from my mother. My mother gave me a kiss and said, “Have a great time at school Kenny,” and she stepped back. I turned to her and screamed, ‘No! I won’t do this to you mom – YOU NEED ME!’ I ran back to save her; she was shocked by her little boy’s response. She might have thought I was scared of school but nothing could be further from the truth - I wasn’t doing this for me – I WAS DOING THIS FOR HER!

When I got back to her I wrapped my arms around her legs and said, ‘Mom, sniff, I, sniff, can’t, sniff, do, sniff, this, sniff, to, sniff, you, sniff!’ She said, ‘Kenny, you’re a big boy now and you need to go to school so you can grow up to be the greatest UPS Finance Manager in the world! You’ll only be gone for a few hours – I’ll be fine – trust me. Now, I need you to get back on the bus so you can become the man I want you to be!’ For a second - I was weak – I let my mother talk me into getting on the bus – even though I knew in my heart that’s not what she really wanted. Once I sat down in my seat I thought to myself, “What have I done?” I realized I was wrong to get on the bus – but it was too late! The driver slammed the door shut and pulled away from my house! Through the bus window I saw my mother waving goodbye to me. My face was plastered up against the window, tears trickling down my face, and then I let out a scream at the top of my lungs, ‘Mommy I don’t want to leave you!’ I cried the whole way to school!”

Kelsie said, with a smile on her face, “Dad, I thought this was when you became an untamed man! Sounds like this is when you became a big, ole wimp!”

“Kelsie, did I say I was finished? Be patient! Sometimes it takes a crisis to really change a person – and this was a crises! You’ll see the rebel come out in me before this story’s over.

When we finally arrived at the school, which was actually a Methodist Church on Sundays, we were led off the bus like convicts going to prison – the only things missing were the orange jump suits, shackles, and the chains. We were led to our class room; where we would be confined for four hours a day – five days a week – to be indoctrinated. My teacher, Mrs. Vorhees assigned us to our cell blocks, which she called tables. At my ‘table’ were four kids including me, Lisa Vertusso, John Signerelli, and Julie Puncherelli.

I didn’t talk much to my new cell mates because I was preoccupied developing the most foolproof escape plan known to man. It was a perfect, flawless plan which if implemented properly would allow me to break free from this nightmare called school! I noticed when we pulled up to the school it was surrounded by woods and those woods, if my calculations were correct, would lead to my Aunt Robbie’s house just off of Hillside Avenue. The key was waiting for the right time.

After all the kids got settled in their seats Mrs. Vorhees told us she would read us a story after she went over some of her Neo-Nazi school rules. Her rules were actually a bunch of fascist commands which included raising our hands before talking, sitting quietly, single file lines, plus many other rules intended to brainwash us into conformity and to take away our individualism and freedom! After she finished going over the rules she said, ‘Alright everyone please stand up quietly, push in your chair, line up in single file at the door; we’re going to the library for our story. As all these five year old SHEEPLE stood up, pushed in their chairs, and gave the Feuer, I mean teacher, a ‘Heil Hitler’ I saw my way out! As my class lined up I made sure I was at the end of the line; when we walked out of our classroom all the other kids made a right turn – I quietly made a left turn. Once out of the site of the teacher I ran straight for the front door of the school – to my freedom!

When I made it outside I was standing in a deep puddle I looked straight up into the sky, the rain poured down my face and I threw my hands in the air and let out a scream…”

Kelsie spoke up, “Dad that sounds like the movie we watched on TV a few weeks ago, ‘The Shawshank Redemption’.”

“Kelsie, will you let me finish my story without interrupting!? Where was I? Oh yea, when I got outside I looked over the landscape trying to decide where to make my get away. I decided my best hope for freedom was through the woods behind the school. I looked back and saw my teacher through the glass doors AND SHE SAW ME! I started running as fast as my legs could carry me. I ran through bushes, I climbed over dead trees, I ran across streams – I just ran and ran without looking back. My heart was pounding, I was huffing and puffing, my body was covered with sweat – now my body was really itching! I couldn’t run anymore – I dropped to the ground exhausted and crawled behind a wide Oak tree, trying to catch my breath. In the distance I heard some commotion, I heard some adult voices say, ‘There he is – let’s get him!’

The thought of going back to San Quintin, I mean school, scared me to death and so my adrenaline started flowing again - I got my second wind! I took off into the deepest, darkest parts of the woods. I ran as fast as my kindergarten legs would take me and for a little while I lost them again. But then I heard my teacher yelling, ‘Kenny where are you! Kenny come back to school! Kenny!’ Then I heard the blood hounds! They set free three or four blood hounds to track me down; they were hot on my trail but they couldn’t catch me…”

I had to speak up this time. I said, “Dad, there is NO WAY they sent out blood hounds after you! No way in the world! You don’t expect us to believe that do you?”

“See Kelsie, do you see what you’ve done? You’ve turned your little brother against me – he’s starting not to believe my stories just like you! I hope you’re happy with yourself. Okay Cam. I’m not saying I actually saw the blood hounds but I know I heard a dog bark so I assumed that they sent them after me. But if you choose not to believe your daddy you can scratch the blood hounds from the story - but the rest of the story is…cough, cough…true!

A short while later I heard my teacher coming after me, unfortunately for me, she was much faster than I was - she caught me a short distance away from school, she carried me back, and placed me in solitary confinement which was actually the table next to her desk. Over the next several weeks Mrs. Vorhees worked with me every day trying to reprogram me – kind of like the communists did to ex-capitalists in the Soviet Union and Communist China. She tried to break my spirit and break it she did; after she “Water Boarded” me for the 112th time I couldn’t take it any longer - I finally gave in and accepted the fact that my life of freedom – my life of Sesame Street, the Electric Company, Cartoons, and Soap Operas had come to an end and I must conform or lose my mind!

So Cameron and Kelsie – that’s the story of my first day of school. I didn’t get off to such a good start but actually this was probably the highlight of my early school years.”

My dad was smiling as he told us this. He then continued, “Kelsie, how’s that for a rebel without a cause? Now you know exactly what a wild man your dad really is!”

Kelsie smiled and said, “Uhh…sure dad…you were living on the edge! You’re a crazy man dad! Can I put on Hannah Montana back on now?”

Over the next few days my dad told me some of his other stories about school. Of course he told me about his teachers, about his friends, about his favorite classes, and about his grades. But I remembered his stories the best - like the one about...

To be continued...