[Tyrana]: 64.My views on physical education

How to Successfully Pass High School Physical Education as an Avid Anti-Social Music Student While Retaining your Pride OR: Okay, so You Don’t Have Your Pride, But At Least You Aren’t Dead. And You’re Passing Physical Education!
(Essay derived from personal experience)

High school physical education is something that has succeeded in destroying many peoples’ hopes and dreams. It is debatably the most ridiculous “class” one needs to sludge through to get a required credit. For a music student, this is often particularly torturous in our happy high school, due to the fact that the glorious music room is tauntingly in hearing-distance from the gym. There are, however, things. Things, thoughts, recommendations, cheats, or whatever you want to call them, that one can carry through with (in no particular suggested order, as long as your order gives you a passing grade) to pass the class, and hopefully make it more enjoyable.

Rule number one: abandon all hope. You have to take this class. You have no choice in the matter. It is required. You may attempt to persuade the administration into giving you a Phys. Ed. credit for marching band, and as plausible as that is, it won’t work. The best way to pass this class is by (partially) accepting your defeat. There are some things that just cannot be worked around. It’s a shame.
Basic rule number two: if you weren’t good at this in elementary school, if you hated it last year, if you have no interest in joining a sport, if you have no interest in sports at all, if you enjoy the company of people who love music, and want to devote their lives to the cause of anything remotely meaningful… You aren’t going to excel in this class. You don’t just turn into an athlete. Experience tells you (and me) that you don’t want to turn into an athlete. So don’t. You aren’t fooling anyone. So don’t try.

Now, there are people in your class. Several, in all likelihood. Dealing with these people in an efficient manner is a huge part of the battle. Realize that a lot of these people actually (by some bizarre twist of fate) enjoy the class, and want to be there. I have found that, especially if you are of the more cynical type, it is best to avoid these people. Some of these sad individuals simply have a near-to-deadly amount of team spirit. You can accept these people as human beings, accept them as insane human beings, or accept the fact that they terrify you. Acceptance is an important key to human interaction.

After you have accepted these individuals in your own… special way… then you can move on to some of the others. Keep in mind that it is vitally important not to point out, or suggest aloud that select peers are in your class simply because it’s the only class they have the mental capacity to pass. It’s best to just discreetly recognize this, and move on.

The people in this class will not find you remotely funny no matter how clever you can be. They simply don’t care. Follow their lead by furrowing your brow thoughtfully at the instructions, and accepting a sport called “extreme volleyball kablooie” as perfectly legitimate, and execute these instructions in a self-contained manner. A double-kablooie is no laughing matter. Neither is anything that comes specifically out of your speaking-orifice. Be prepared to find out that, in this situation, it is really your speaking-orifice that emits the cliché, ridiculous eye-rollers. The orifices that are constantly filled with brainless curse-words, out-of-context gibberish, and constant references to defecation and excrement of all sorts, are the ones that really tickle the ol’ funnybone. It’s good to give a hearty chuckle at these terribly clever jokes, to prove that your sense of humor is tasteful and sophisticated enough to understand them.

Ah, teamwork. It’s a wonderful thing. It is particularly enjoyable when taken much, much too seriously. When you are being screamed at to “dunk the pickle ball before you’re tagged with the yellow tagging stick,” not only does it certainly not sound completely ludicrous, but it also tends to give one a warm, fuzzy feeling of sorts. For some reason, your team members prefer not to have this warm fuzziness directed back at them. It’s best to ignore the warm fuzziness for the time being, and perhaps reflect back upon it later when your cheerful yelling friend needs help with their biology. No doubt, if you return with a helpful suggestion to match the one directed at you, it will be seen as a sort of... anti-teamwork, and it doesn’t count.

Sports can be vicious. You may find that the people in your class prefer violence over… everything. If you happen to get hit directly in the eye with a rubber “broom-ball,” just remember: it isn’t painful, it’s hilarious! You’ll wish you could’ve seen the look on your face! Perhaps in a few weeks when the bandages come off, you’ll be able to watch as someone imitates it for you. In fact, the imitation may become a permanent part of your identity. What a treat! Why a nickname, when you can have a… a nick-face? The whole situation may make you also wish there was some way to punch a hole in the back of someone’s skull so as to drain out testosterone. Now, now. Let’s not think about that, though. Thoughts like that won’t solve any problems. Violence is not the answer. Sadist.

A lot of these sport-like activities require one to abandon their sense of mortality. This shouldn’t be a problem. If you’re spending your time enjoying a class in physical “education,” chances are high that your life isn’t all that great to begin with. To get the most out of this class, all things: fear of heights, self-respect and protection, empathy, fear of death, and any silly ideas about gravity or physics, must be disregarded. When a hard rubber ball is hurtling towards your head at who-knows-how-many miles per hour, acting with your well-developed core instincts and human nature, and moving so as not to get hit in the face will only get you yelled at. You’re supposed to catch the ball, under any circumstances. Diving for the ball is also a plus. Save the ball. Do not underestimate the ball. Do not disrespect the ball. Do not taunt the ball. The ball is sacred.

Amongst the array of balls involved in sports, there are also a number of other inanimate objects. It’s good to learn the names of these objects. It’s even better if you also learn how they are used. Making up names for them, on the other hand, is not a great idea. Trust me. (See: “The people in this class will not find you remotely funny no matter how clever you can be…”) You also can’t over-generalize them. Most sports are so similar, that if you don’t learn the specifics, you often can’t tell them apart. At the least, try to specify the color or shape of the ball, or sports equipment in question. Maybe the color and shape if you want to get tricky. When you say “brown pointy ball that goes through the big tuning-fork shaped thingy,” usually the people will know what you’re talking about. Or they’ll assume it’s something derogatory, and beat you up. Let’s hope it’s the former.
You wouldn’t expect the majority of your class to recognize an oboe in any respect. You wouldn’t expect them to recognize a Dorian scale, or even decode the simple rules behind common-time triplets. Why? Because they probably won’t use that information ever in their entire lives. It isn’t useful to them. They aren’t interested, and they don’t have to be. So you have to go through the trouble of learning the names of all the instruments and rules and regulations involved in sports. It’s only fair.

Some of these sports are so completely ridiculous that you won’t be able to figure out why on this happy bobbing blue planet anyone would ever want to play them. Either your phys. ed. Teacher has admitted to the personal creation of this sport (what entices these people, lord only knows), or he insists that it’s a popular sport in some obscure (or non-existent) third-world country. If you’re here in beautiful Rumford Maine, one of these sports is bound to be “Broom Ball.” This comes right after the ‘personal fitness’ unit, and right before the ‘possibly die from pneumonia’… unit…
You may think: “What a funny game… it’s played with brooms.” Alas, there are no brooms. That is the sad irony. Somewhere along the lines, the brooms in this game (which I hear is extremely popular in a little place called the Republic of Tstkchntavia) have been replaced by what? Two-foot-long hard rubber paddles, of course! This game is played (under perfect Broom Ball conditions) in hard, crusty snow in twenty-below weather with wind. Let’s not complain about the weather, though, people. This will, more often than not, cause you to become repeatedly familiar with the phrase: “Suck it up, wimp.”

The process of passing high school physical education is something every student in this wonderful school must go through. There are many that seem to make the class the very meaning in their existence, but the best thing to keep in mind when you’re in a tiny, enclosed weight-lifting hell with 14 heavily perspiring teenagers, or outside in twenty-below weather with howling wind playing some Disney/robot-gopher-based remake of Super Hula-hoop Dodge-Freeze-Jump-Tag-Ball, or worse, walking past the beautiful, light-emitting paradise that is the band room—simply so you can get on a bus with these 14 favorite people to go hurdling down 90° slopes with two ridiculous sticks locked to your feet… is that you aren’t the only person that hates this stuff. Hence the six-page essay.
Thank you.