If you've ever seen Full Metal Jacket, Saving Private Ryan, Platoon, We Were Soldiers, Apocalypse Now, or any episode of Band of Brothers, then you know exactly the type of thing I had to endure throughout elementary and middle school. Actually my years in early grade school probably more closely resembled Fival Goes West or A Very Brady Sequel, but I was really young so they seemed much more frightening back then (like when your parents take you to the circus for the first time and the bearded lady hits on you). If you haven't seen any of the aforementioned movies, there's no need to worry although I am thoroughly disappointed and you will receive an 'Incomplete' on your semester assessment.

Every day of Elementary School began with the bus ride to school. Bus rides were always an enjoyable blend of blurry neighborhoods, perilous speeding, and sudden, forehead-to-seatback braking. At no point during my entire tenure as an elementary school student did my bus driver indicate in any way that he knew he wasn't playing an arcade racing game. I wouldn't have trusted this guy behind the Wheel of Fortune, much less the wheel of a bus filled with ten year-olds. By fourth grade I was convinced that my bus driver must have learned different lyrics to the song the Wheels on the Bus. His version seemed to go something like: "The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, over a kitten, over a kitten. The wheels on the bus go up on two wheels, through that guy's garden, through that guy's garden. The wheels on the bus grind to a screeching holt, for no apparent reason, back over that kitten, all the live-long day." These were always memorable times and for those of you who have never seen a leveled 'stop' sign, the irony is so intense that it can give you a headache.

The driver bussed us back home in a similar fashion after school, the only difference being that in the morning he was still hung over from the previous evening, whereas by the afternoon he had already begun drinking for the next evening. The school was obviously aware of the very trustworthy individuals they had at the helm because the average school bus contained by my count, eight to 10 emergency exits. I distinctly remember that my bus in elementary school actually had a fire exit on the ceiling. This was because the school's administration didn't put it past their drivers to conceivable flip a bus and catch it on fire at the same time. I'm not saying that you should have to be a genius to drive a school bus, all I'm saying is that I think you should have passed the grade of the children you're driving home.

However, the bus rides were not the scariest part of the day. The most traumatic part of any child's elementary school days were those times he or she had to spend with the school nurse. For school nurses are the most angry people on the face of the planet and can, when irritated (by, say, a whimpering six year-old), breath fire out of both ends. I would walk in to a School Nurses of America Convention just as quickly as I would jump into the middle of the Pacific soaked in blood and wearing a sign that says "you suck, sharks."

Nobody is really sure what causes school nurses to be so fed up, mainly because all attempted tests on the subject have resulted in one or all of the practitioners being turned to stone. However, I have three theories. One involves a shaved corgi and a catapult, but I believe it is inappropriate to discuss details at this juncture. Maybe later. My second theory is not fully developed yet, but is based on the fact that anyone forced to sit in a small, square, light beige or lima green room all day will surely not be firing on all cylinders by the end of the month. However, my third and perhaps most plausible theory is that school nurses are so bitter because they are school nurses. Obviously, if you are an elementary school nurse, your life did not "take the route" you wanted it to. You might even say it "off-roaded into a big pile of excrement" at some point. School nurse is strictly a job that people get stuck with after several demotions. Nobody completes their medical training and thinks "Well, I enjoy working the field. I've studied it now for several years and I'd like focus on those ailments curable by either a band-aid or a tampon. That's where my heart is. Neosporin and Kotex are my callings." Or for instance, you'll never hear children say "Hey do you want to play doctor?" "Nah, let's play middle school nurse!" "Alright! You get the pillow, I'll get the hall passes!" Whichever theory is correct matters not. What matters is that, should you ever visit the school nurse again, you sport a kevlar vest and codpiece.

Another terrifying time in school was the monthly spelling bee. This was a competition in which the teacher lined all of us up against a wall and, like some firing range of academic failure, would tell each student to go sit down if he misspelled the given word. I was notoriously sucky at this and if I ever did, by some miracle, spell a word correctly, the teacher would immediately call up Webster so he and his lexiconic goons could come up with a new way to spell it:
Me: Lamb. L-A-M-B. Lamb.
Teacher: I'm sorry, Dean. Wrong again. 'Lamb' isn't spelled with a 'b' at the end. It's spelled with a ''.
Me: But we're not in Russia. I'm sure of that because it was the only question I got correct in the Geography Bee.
Teacher: Well Dean that's the way God wrote it and he probably doesn't appreciate you making fun of him.
Me: But I--
Teacher: Snack Time!

However, Elementary and Middle School weren't too overwhelming for me. I was usually preoccupied practicing to become a professional tennis player, although I always took time out between matches to partake in comical, quick-witted exchanges with my best friends about boys and shopping. No wait, maybe that's Blossom I'm thinking of. Yeah, school did suck.


If you've got questions, responses, or you'd like to comment on my driving, please feel free to email me at comeydean@yahoo.com