April 29, 2009
This has got to be my favorite picture on all of Facebook. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a photo of my first grade class back in 1986:
Darn that was a good year.
I was five years old, losing teeth left and right, and looking back, it seems as though I was just embarking upon my awkward phase--you know, the one that lasted until my twenty-third birthday?
So, can you find me in there? Really, can you?
Now if you look at the child in the very center of the middle row, that's Frank. Frank was loud, wiggly, and had a most excellent sense of humor--everyone thought so. Well, everyone except our teacher. Even at the ripe old age of five, I could tell, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Mrs. P didn't care much for underarm farts, or knock-knock jokes, or the Frankie package in general.
But man, that kid was just my style. I always pulled some first grade strings to make sure that we were assigned to the same lunch table--he liked the treats my mother would pack for my table-of-four, and I liked the punch he packed when he tooted. Yin and Yang people, Yin and Yang.
One afternoon, as we were busily working away on dot-to-dot puzzles, I remember hearing our teacher say, "Frankie, if you move one more time, I'm tying you to that chair. I mean it." And before she even had the chance to wag a finger, Frank was up, using our in-class water fountain.
Whoa guys, apparently Mrs. P wasn't one for issuing empty threats. Within sixteen seconds, Frank was sitting in the middle of the classroom, tied--loosely and lovingly, of course--to his little blue plastic chair with a single strand of kite string.
And with that cue, every single child in the class proceeded to use the water fountain over, and over, and over again because, du-uh!!! If Frankie was tied to his chair, it had to be fun. We wanted to be tied up, too.
And that was '86. No lawsuits involved.
So really. Can you find me?