If I had to single out an embarrassing memory from my high school days, I would struggle. Not because I was the model of cool throughout but because there are so many, hundreds even, to choose from.
There is one memory which always sticks out though. Its not as obviously humiliating as many others but for some reason it still causes my palms to sweat whenever it comes into my head.
Back in school, I was ‘impaired’ when it came to sports. The title of my blog really isn’t an over-exaggeration. The other choice was ‘Being the only person left to pick at sports and having to partner up with the teacher’ but that seemed a little clunky.
When it came to the start of a new term, we were all seated in the gym as our PE teacher read out what sports were available over the coming months. A list of students then followed for each sport. I was placed in Rugby, a hellish choice. The other options were no better – football, basketball etc. Every sport provided endless opportunities for humiliation.
But then, an oasis appeared. Darts.
Darts would be perfect for me. It did strike me as an odd choice for PE and I would still suck majorly at it but I could stay pretty stationary throughout and manage to avoid the group showers after. Perfect.
When lunchtime came around, I went to see my PE teacher and asked if I could change. He looked up at me, slightly confused. ‘You want to change to darts?’ he questioned. I nodded, totally confident in my option and surprised at his reticence to add me to the list. ‘You do realise it will be mostly girls in this group?’ he asked. ‘Its fine. I want to do darts,’ I insisted. He begrudgingly added me and I walked away.
It was at this point that I started to question what had just happened. Why would it be mostly girls doing darts? Since when was darts seen as a predominantly female sport? Come to think of it, since when was darts even considered a sport?
I found solace in my friends and told them of my decision. My friends looked at each other, confusion pervading. ‘Darts? Darts wasn’t an option Ben,’ someone stated, ‘But dance was.’
At this very moment, I craved more than ever for the earth to crumble under my feet and engulf me, erasing any memory the world ever contained of my existence. There had been a terrible, terrible misunderstanding. A misunderstanding so terrible that I wasn’t sure at that moment, I would ever recover. My reputation at school was hardly solid but the last thing it needed was another sucker punch like this.
I raced back to the PE teacher, suitably amused friends in tow. It all made sense now. The all-female group, the reticence to add my name to the list...
An image of Michelle Ferguson, an odd girl from my class, playing darts in the gym entered my head and at any other time, I would have laughed. At this point of utter, repellent despair I was concerned that I may never laugh again.
I fumbled a messy explanation to the teacher as I spoke of my confusion and he removed my name from the list. I nervously laughed to show him that it really was a misunderstanding and I hadn’t just changed my mind after discovering what social suicide dance would be for me. He was skeptical. Understandably so as well. How many other idiots would actually believe that darts was a feasible option for physical education in school?
I walked away, doing what I do in these type of situations, making jokes about it to my friends. ‘Oh Ben, he’s just so goofy, he thought dance was darts!’ would be the common line and it was a fairly ridiculous story which would be easy to laugh off.
But still, it haunted me for an unnecessary amount of time. What replays in my head even now, is the reaction of my teacher to my bizarre request. He must have known that this was a terrible, life-destroying choice of mine but had to comply out of some worry that he might see his name splattered across the local paper: LOCAL BOY REFUSED DANCE CLASS SUES SCHOOL FOR SEXISM, coupled with a picture of me holding up a pair of ballet shoes and sporting a concerned face.
And in those 10 minutes between my name being added and my sudden retraction, he would have genuinely believed that I was willing to sacrifice everything to pursue my love for dance. Even now it makes me shudder.
Although now I am able to laugh at it. When I’m in need of a smile I’ll think of a group of 14 year old girls lining up to throw darts while they were taught about positioning and aim.
There is one memory which always sticks out though. Its not as obviously humiliating as many others but for some reason it still causes my palms to sweat whenever it comes into my head.
Back in school, I was ‘impaired’ when it came to sports. The title of my blog really isn’t an over-exaggeration. The other choice was ‘Being the only person left to pick at sports and having to partner up with the teacher’ but that seemed a little clunky.
When it came to the start of a new term, we were all seated in the gym as our PE teacher read out what sports were available over the coming months. A list of students then followed for each sport. I was placed in Rugby, a hellish choice. The other options were no better – football, basketball etc. Every sport provided endless opportunities for humiliation.
But then, an oasis appeared. Darts.
Darts would be perfect for me. It did strike me as an odd choice for PE and I would still suck majorly at it but I could stay pretty stationary throughout and manage to avoid the group showers after. Perfect.
When lunchtime came around, I went to see my PE teacher and asked if I could change. He looked up at me, slightly confused. ‘You want to change to darts?’ he questioned. I nodded, totally confident in my option and surprised at his reticence to add me to the list. ‘You do realise it will be mostly girls in this group?’ he asked. ‘Its fine. I want to do darts,’ I insisted. He begrudgingly added me and I walked away.
It was at this point that I started to question what had just happened. Why would it be mostly girls doing darts? Since when was darts seen as a predominantly female sport? Come to think of it, since when was darts even considered a sport?
I found solace in my friends and told them of my decision. My friends looked at each other, confusion pervading. ‘Darts? Darts wasn’t an option Ben,’ someone stated, ‘But dance was.’
At this very moment, I craved more than ever for the earth to crumble under my feet and engulf me, erasing any memory the world ever contained of my existence. There had been a terrible, terrible misunderstanding. A misunderstanding so terrible that I wasn’t sure at that moment, I would ever recover. My reputation at school was hardly solid but the last thing it needed was another sucker punch like this.
I raced back to the PE teacher, suitably amused friends in tow. It all made sense now. The all-female group, the reticence to add my name to the list...
An image of Michelle Ferguson, an odd girl from my class, playing darts in the gym entered my head and at any other time, I would have laughed. At this point of utter, repellent despair I was concerned that I may never laugh again.
I fumbled a messy explanation to the teacher as I spoke of my confusion and he removed my name from the list. I nervously laughed to show him that it really was a misunderstanding and I hadn’t just changed my mind after discovering what social suicide dance would be for me. He was skeptical. Understandably so as well. How many other idiots would actually believe that darts was a feasible option for physical education in school?
I walked away, doing what I do in these type of situations, making jokes about it to my friends. ‘Oh Ben, he’s just so goofy, he thought dance was darts!’ would be the common line and it was a fairly ridiculous story which would be easy to laugh off.
But still, it haunted me for an unnecessary amount of time. What replays in my head even now, is the reaction of my teacher to my bizarre request. He must have known that this was a terrible, life-destroying choice of mine but had to comply out of some worry that he might see his name splattered across the local paper: LOCAL BOY REFUSED DANCE CLASS SUES SCHOOL FOR SEXISM, coupled with a picture of me holding up a pair of ballet shoes and sporting a concerned face.
And in those 10 minutes between my name being added and my sudden retraction, he would have genuinely believed that I was willing to sacrifice everything to pursue my love for dance. Even now it makes me shudder.
Although now I am able to laugh at it. When I’m in need of a smile I’ll think of a group of 14 year old girls lining up to throw darts while they were taught about positioning and aim.
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1 comments:
In googleing something related to darts I came across your story. I was a bit confused also why girls would be playing darts for PE and why later on it would be mistaken for dance. Then I saw you're in London and realized the two words sound less similar here in the states.
Best wishes,
Jacobprimo
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