Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Slaughter Rule

You know my husband is a movie star, right? He was in the movie Slaughter Rule. Well, ok, he was the guy running the scoreboard for one of the scenes… but if you watch close you can see him. Running the scoreboard was one of his many jobs when he taught at a small class C school. (I’m pretty sure saying “small” and “Class C” is redundant… buy you know what I mean.) The high school has around 40 kids in grades 9-12… no, not 40 per class.... I mean in the whole high school.

Slaughter Rule is an indie film. The name comes from a (former) rule in 6-man football. When a team is up by 45 points the slaughter rule kicks in and the clock no longer stops. As in “you are getting slaughtered so we are going to speed things up here.” See, who said this wasn’t an educational site?

Hot Stuff taught English, literature & the occasional history class. He also mentored some independent study classes. He put on the school play one year. (That is so insane I can’t even begin to explain it…) We chaperoned the prom. We reminded the kids about curfew when we were all at the bar. (Ok… that sentence demands explanation…. There is nowhere for kids to hang out in a small town. So the kids all came to the local bar to eat chicken strips and play pool. It actually worked out pretty well because on any given night at least one teacher and several parents were having dinner at the bar and could keep an eye on things.) Hot Stuff was the athletic director and a class advisor. Being athletic director involved scheduling all the games and referees for all the sports. It meant arriving at the gym several hours before any event. He made sure things were set up and the checks were cut for the officials. (Hhmm…. That sounds a little skeevy… what I mean is he made sure the referees were paid… properly.) He ran the scoreboard for football games. I can’t tell you the number of hours we spent in the gym. Basketball, football, volleyball, track. I was often pressed into service to collect tickets, take water to referees at half time, unlock changing areas for cheerleaders & supervise the half time pop-shot. Juniors run the concession stand to make money to finance things like the prom and Junior-Senior Banquet. So the year his “kids” were juniors I spent many hours in the concession stand…. Battling the vintage popcorn machine and selling Junior Mints. I was so glad to see those kids become seniors. I was walking to the first home football game that season and I hear all the junior moms in the concession stand hollering. I’m thinking, “What school spirit. What pride.” Then I realize they are yelling…. My name. They’ve spotted me. And they KNOW I know how to run the popcorn machine. Darn.

There are many times I miss living in a tiny town. We had to drive across a creek to get to our little rented trailer…. Which was in the middle of town… and we could cut across a little foot bridge and be at the bar in about 3 minutes. Small towns have that nosy aspect. You know. You can’t fart without everyone in town knowing what you had for dinner…. That part. But there is something comforting in knowing people are watching your back even if they might be talking behind it too.

If nothing else it is a comfort to know you can be at a bar in 3 minutes… walking…. Yup, I miss small town living sometimes…..

4 comments:

mrtl said...

Bar in three-minute walk? Sounds good to me!

McSwain said...

I could walk across the street to a bar when I used to live in N. Hollywood. Somehow I don't think it's the same thing. Bet there weren't any drag queens a your bar, huh?

Susan said...

But were you going commando at the bar? Or the prom?

Homestead said...

mrtl- Not just any bar... the Buckhorn Bar. Dead animals on the walls and the best fried food around.

cheryl- Surprise! We did have a drag queen! Just one, though. I have never laughed so hard in my life as I did seeing a cowboy in wranglers, carhartt coat & a pearl-beaded clutch.

susan- I just don't want to live in a society that won't allow me to go commando, well, wherever I want to go commando..... so, to answer your question, yes, I have gone commando to the bar. Thinking back....I'm pretty sure I was sportin' panties for the prom.