Sophomore Year 1978-79
The picture isn't from "my" high school days - but at that time I wouldn't have known what the world wide web, internet, or blogging meant either.
Some 10 years before starting high school, we were on a trip (to Nebraska, I think) and while staying at a motel I fell or tried to get from the kiddie pool into the big pool. My recollection is going down through the water until my Dad grabbed my hand and brought me to the surface.
A life-long fear of the water resulted. Attending St. Paul was no reason to fear it, but I knew going to high school meant I had to swim.
The spring prior to going to J. A. Craig, I spent quite a number of weeks at the YMCA learning how to swim. The lessons seemed to go pretty well.
In Craig's Physical Education classes, there were between 60 and 90 students - either boys or girls, divided into three sub-groups based on how well you could swim. This made some sense since the swimming units could be tailored to the ability of those in the class.
So, it was during the first week of P.E. class that we had the swim test. One lap, up and back, starting eight at a time from the blocks and timed.
Oh, did I mention there were no swim suits? Yep. Through the years, when I've told people this little detail they are amazed. I don't know when that tradition started and if (or when) it stopped - but the day of the test the 90 or so of us marched from the locker room through a short hallway and lined up around the pool only wearing our birthday suits.
No, that doesn't inspire confidence. The coaches and cadets (senior students who helped with the class) were clothed. It's also somewhat interesting that the girls did wear suits (that's what we were told) issued by the school. You could bring your own suit if you wanted. But, oddly enough being the one kid in a suit would have been worse than not wearing one at all.
As the line kept moving around the pool as each group dove in, swam both ways, and finished. I reminded myself I could swim, although this diving in was a bit out of what I knew. Finally, I was on a block in one of the center lanes.
The whistle blew. I dove in. Belly-flopped, lost all my air. I remember going down, coming back up. I had a sense that the other kids were finishing as I flayed away trying to get to the surface and finish this insidious exercise. Then my mind flashed on the next day's headline in the Janesville Gazette, "Sophomore drowns at Craig."
Apparently, the coaches thought the goofball at the bottom of the pool was goofing around. Finally, they ordered some kids to go get me out. I was told I fought several guys off in my panic. I only knew about two who pulled me out of the water... one became my debate partner through all three years of school and another was a lineman on the football team that grabbed my arm to get me out.
I was assigned to the "C" group for non or very poor swimmers. When we had our swim unit... I got an "A" and yes there were still no suits during the actual swim unit. (Perhaps this explains a lot psychologically?)
By comparison, the rest of my first year in the big high school was fine. The first day in the massive lunch room with 500 or so other kids was redeemed when the older brother of my best friend allowed me to sit with him at his table of seniors. I joined the staff of the Criterion, Craig's weekly newspaper.
I learned helping students bigger and older would go a long way to preserving one's skin. I also learned how to get in and out of my locker as quick as possible.
This was important because sophomores (remember, this was a three year high school) were assigned the lowest priority for lockers and mine was smack in what was known as the "burn-out" section. Frequently the mixed aroma of pot and cigarettes was in the air and I was like a little squirrel darting in and out of the crowds with my books, trying to blend in and be invisible.
I went to many of the football and basketball games with a couple of friends... bonded with the guys who made up the Craig debate team (my rescuer and two other guys - one of them dubbed me Pointdexter - hence the name of this column) and joined the Forensics team where I competed in extemporaneous speaking.
If the swim test wouldn't kill me - I guess nothing would - not the dances or the girls or the classes. On to Junior Year!
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