Monday, September 26, 2005

It's a Class Thing

How many kids are in a Class 5A school?

The biggest class we have in Montana is Double A.

I graduated from a Class C school. Do you know what that means?

1. There were 8 in my graduating class (no, not 800 or 80). And, yes, I do know where they all are today. 2 of them are reading this right now and laughing.

2. We played 6-man football. That's right. It's like basketball with helmets.

3. I had the same history/govt teacher from the 7th grade-12th grade.

4. One of my classmates got hung on a hook in the gym by the teacher in 2nd grade. (Just wanted to share that...)

5. Most of the kids I graduated with I went to kindergarten with... or met when our school consolidated with the next town over when I was in the 4th grade.

6. The schools all just consolidated again this year.

7. I was related to a lot of kids in my school.

8. I didn't date much. (But not just because I was related to everyone.... that wouldn't stop a true Redneck from dating....)

9. The school pretty much shut down during tournament time.

10. I got to wave to my sister at lunch every day when she was in kintergarden and I was in high school. I threw things at my brother... he was in junior high.

11. My teachers often called me by my aunt's name.

12. My brother passed Senior English based on the fact that "all those (my family) kids are good at English."

13. He almost failed math due to the exact same reasoning.

14. I still get twitchy and worry that people are watching me when I go back to that little town.

7 comments:

McSwain said...

They are watching you. ;-)

M&Co. said...

I think there were about 125 or 150 in my graduating class. It was really small for this area. I don't know where most of them are now and frankly, I don't want to.

Is that cruel? Oh well, I AM a bitch.

Both my kids told me they hated me this weekend so that proves it, right?

SierraBella said...

Guess you couldn't get away with stuff (like we could.)

Our graduating class was 365.

Homestead said...

cheryl- It's true. Sometime I have to blog about sliding down an icy hill while driving to school and my husband knowing about it before I got there. (He was at the school.... my destination.)

m&co.- Doesn't having your kids tell you they hate you earn you some merit badge of motherhood? I am SO looking forward to Sweet Boy making complete sentences....

Sierrabella- Interestingly, we still seemed to get away with quite a bit.... I'll have to see if I can think of a clever post about that.....

Jill said...

I didn't realize rednecks lurked in parts other than the south. I guess it's good to know that no one is contained. :) I graduated with 19. I feel your pain!!

Greenthumb said...

I graduated with 75 in my class. Most of them I grew up with from Kindergarten on up. Several were cousins and no, nothing really keeps you from playing around with cousins in a redneck town. It's all good.

So far, 3 of my classmates of died.
5 of us are gay.
Several still live and work in the same small town.
Many of us cleared out shortly after graduation.
At one point, I lived with in a 10 mile radius of 6 of my former classmates in Portland, OR.

I love small towns, but hated everyone knowing everyones business sometimes.

Mary P. said...

I know it couldn't possibly be true, but I think we had the same second-grade teacher!!

When I got hiccups in class one day, which a trip to the water fountain did not eliminate, she brought me up to the front, told me to wait a second while she got something that would help, and while she was behind me (the entire class quiet as mice because they knew what was coming) she bellowed out "BOO!" Scared those things right out of me.

There was the day she picked up Tyrone (aka Mr. 7-year-old Potty Mouth) and, holding him by the ankles, dipped him head-first into her wastepaper basket. "If you're going to talk like garbage, you can just join the garbage."

Another time she picked up Randy Pridham (no fear he'll find this: I'm quite sure he never learned to read...) by "the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants" and swung him back and forth a few times, his hands and feet dangling, and threatened to throw him out the window if he didn't sit down and behave himself. He was killing himself laughing.

She was also the teacher you went to if you'd had "an accident", because she always had dry clothes on hand; she kept iodine and bandaids in her desk; she played skipping with the girls and taught us all to pitch a ball (she was 64), she'd give you milk money if she knew your family couldn't afford it that week. We loved her to bits.