February 28, 2007
I Would Have Done Business with Ms. Tootle

Do they still have the rope?  And if it hangs in today’s gym, what, exactly, is the problem?  A dollar is such a small price to pay. 

According to recent news reports, Florida education officials kicked a middle school gym teacher out of the state education system upon discovering she accepted dollar a day bribes from students wishing to avoid P.E. class. 

To be honest, the teachers name was the best part of the story.  Is there a middle school student alive who wouldn’t become hysterical with laughter announcing his gym teacher was Tamara B. Tootle?  According to the story she was on staff at Ernest Ward Middle School, but a Tamara B. Tootle seems eminently more qualified to be found on the faculty of Hogwarts, Harry Potter’s alma mater. 

But back to bribes.  A buck a day to get out of burpies, pull-ups, dodge ball and rope climbs?  That’s a bargain. 

Granted, I went to school so long ago, allowing for inflation, the going rate would have been a dime a day, not a dollar, but P.E. class In high school was so distasteful I went out for sports.  At dear old Cambridge High being a member of the football, basketball or track squads, (the only sports offered at our four year school of 140 students), allowed one to avoid P.E.  Today it’s called “movement education” or some other gussied up name, but know we’re talking about “put on a T-shirt and shorts and be sure you’re wearing a clean jock” gym class.   

My best friend Ron couldn’t understand the decision.  “You’re cannon fodder for the varsity,” he explained with insight.  As a 5 foot freshmen weighing 100 pounds I displayed a total lack of eye/hand co-ordination coupled with the kind of foot speed coaches claimed could be timed with a sundial.  This absence of height, weight and athletic ability qualified yours truly to function as a live tackling dummy in football, the guy charged with inventory control come basketball season, “Maynard, grab all the balls from shooting practice and don’t let ‘em our of your sight while we scrimmage”, while in track I was the poor schlub entered in the mile always found half a lap behind when the lead runners were straining for the finish. 

All that humiliation was better than being forced to try and climb the rope in P.E. class. Hanging from a girder along side the basketball court, the rope climb was required of all male students taking gym.  The drill involved grabbing the rope, climbing hand over hand to the ceiling, touching the girder, and then descending in the same manner you went up.  For my friend Ron, it took seconds.  I never made it more than three feet off the floor.   

The P.E. teacher, evil Mr. Doyle, thought my rope-climbing exhibition better than any TV comedy.  His P.E. regimen was to have the class warm-up by running around the schoolyard while he had a smoke, (it was indeed a different time) and then gather at the rope for the day’s climb.  And when tiring of my travails attempting to scale the heights the class moved to the chin-up bar where my efforts were even less productive.  So I went out for football. 

And now comes the realization the rope and being a tackling dummy could both been avoided with a simple bribe.  Ah Tamara Tootle, you were born a half-century late.