Yeah.       .       .

I was   T H A T   kid.

I wasn’t very good in school.      .      .

I didn’t like it.       .       .

I don’t know if it much liked me, either.       .        .

I went there to play sports

and when sports went away,

I used it for a true means

to an   e  n  d.     .     .

I learned to beat it

M            O          R          E

than it beat me.

I learned to overcome it’s shame

and   D   E   G   R   A   D   I   N   G         G   R   A   D   E   S.       .       .

When I was in 6th grade we had just moved again;

It was the third school I had been in 6 years.      .      .

In retrospect.      .      .

it really made me the extrovert,

people-person I am today.       .       .

but it was tough,  t h e n.        .         .

Our teacher was Old School

in an    n e w   school.       .       .

She believed in motivating through humiliation;

When you took a test

she let everyone know what   S  C  O  R  E

they received by

Calling out your name

and putting your paper on the desk.      .      .

but just not any desk;

We had five rows of them.     .     .

She started by calling out the names

of all those who had received

F’s

by putting them on the row of desks in the fifth row;

D’s

were the Fourth Row;

C’s

right in the middle;

B’s

in the Second Row

and with drum roll anticipation

and great Pomp

T h e   A’s  

were reserved for   T H A T

First Row.     .     .

Yes, I can finally write about it now.       .       .

I landed not just in the Fifth Row,

but most of the time,

the last or next to the last seat in the Fifth Row.     .     .

H-U-M-L-L-I-A-T-E-D–N O T

m     o     t     i     v     a     t     e     d !

And then I found a way out:

E     X     T     R     A           C     R     E     D     I     T !

We walked to school,

which was a half of a block away

and went home for lunch.     .     .

I would hurry home

and eat lunch and then hurry back to school

so that I could grab the Encyclopedias

and come up with a 3-5 minute talk

about some interesting facts

of what we were studying in Geography;

I didn’t discover my voice.        .        .

I literally ascertained that my mouth,

the mouth that had been washed out several times with soap,

that got sent to bed countless times for

‘s  a  s  s  i  n  g,’

that mouth which could convince

my brothers and sister

out of their favorite Halloween or Easter candy,

belongs in a Circus—

all   T h r e e – R i n g s !

I did what everyone else hated to do:

T   a   l   k

 in front of the class room,

three days a week,

following our lunch break.      .      .

I’d tell them about the importing and exporting business

in Peru or Rio or Guam;

Told them about climates and what grew best in the soil;

What Winter’s or Fall’s were like;

I told them what the favorite hobbies

or past-time’s were in those locales and

I      K  E  P  T      F  A  I  L  I  N  G      T  E  S  T  S.         .        .

But I kept moving up Rows.     .     .

From the  F’s

to the  D’s

to the  C’s

to the  B’s

and finally.      .      .

I was sitting in the last seat of the

A’s   Row

because of a mouth that couldn’t be quieted or

D  E – G  R  A  D  E  D !

I remember one afternoon,

going in before school resumed

again after lunch

and working on another Extra Credit talk

while  S H E

was sitting at her desk grading papers

to a test we had just taken that morning;

“You found a way, didn’t you,”  she asked me?

I looked up from the Encyclopedia that I was reading,

getting ready for my next talk.     .     .

“Uhhh, ma’am.”

“You found a way of passing while failing, didn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, it’s a good thing, because this test you just took would have landed you back in the last seat of the Fourth Row.”

I didn’t say or do anything, because I couldn’t look away from her.

She smiled and said,

“Congratulations. Well done, Mr. Behrens. You have found a way out of the way and I believe it will serve you well.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.      .      .

I haven’t stopped smiling—–

y  e  t.        .        .

or

T       A       L       K       I       N       G.        .        .