Since the last few days have been about nostalgia, yesterday’s post ended up making me think about life in middle school, and what I remembered most from my mid school years.

Because we moved across town when I was 9, I ended up attending junior high at Eisenhower Middle School- home of the Eisenhower Impalas. The school was close enough that the kids in my neighborhood just walked to it- it was maybe 6 blocks east and 5 blocks north from our house- and so, depending on when you left you house, you were on your own walking there, or you might cluster up with another neighborhood kid or two as you walked there.

Middle school was middle school, and for me, it was full of awkwardness. But it provided opportunities as well. My introversion was pretty pronounced those years, but I have some good memories of other kids and experiences from it.

A few other kids from our street that were either my age or a year older were there when I was there, and a strong memory from my first fall there were the “Kill the Man with the Ball” contests fielded each morning before class. Also known at the time by a less PC name, if you chose to play, it was a rite of passage of sorts, and also said something about you. It was basically pick up the free football and run around the grassy field in front of the school until someone tackled you. I think I joined in a few times because the older boys on my block did it and I wanted to be cool. I think I actually had pretty good feet and long legs as a kid, and could escape tackle for a while. But you eventually ate sod.

At Eisenhower, I was a quiet kid and went to class and did what I was supposed to do. I had a handful of friends I hung around: some known from church, and some met in classes. I spent a lot of time with Tim Fox the Tank Drawer the first half of my sixth grade year, until he moved. I also spent a fair amount of time with David Platt, a friend I knew from church. At church we were informally known as “the twins” because we looked very similar with dark wavy mops on our bespectacled heads. I just happened to be tall and he was short. In 7th grade, David moved away, and I spent a lot of time after that with a number of acquaintances- kids I knew who happened to have free periods off when I did. After school during much of middle school, though, I ended up spending much of my time with Glenn, my good friend, who lived five blocks west from our street on Spain Blvd.

Middle school was a period of new experiences, naturally.

My folks gave me a basic calligraphy kit one Christmas, and I discovered I really enjoyed trying to learn to nicely letter, and Eisenhower ended up having a calligraphy club, led by science teacher Mr. Pabst. I spent a lot of time at that club and around Mr. Pabst and a few other kids learning to script in Italics, Black Letter, and Uncial.

I also ended up in the school’s gifted program which was led by Cindy Taylor. Ms. Taylor was a happy, friendly, free-wheeling sort of teacher who believed film production was a good way to get gifted kids doing excellent things, and I recall many of our projects in classes with her over three years were related to writing, reading, drama, and film production. We had stop action and an early handheld camera available for project production, and Ms. Taylor also brought a junior high film festival to Eisenhower. The funny thing is, I don’t remember doing much creative work in these classes myself. I manned cameras and helped make props when necessary. I wasn’t a director/producer/actor type at all. Nor a scriptwriter.

During the fall, my greatest athletic exploits happened, as my folks were good to sign me up to play in the Albuquerque Youth Basketball League, and to take me to practices, and to sit in the stands in mid schools around the Heights to watch my teams play. I appreciated being able to play, but I was often a step slow on the floor, and not the best shot on the court. I was tall, though, and ran the court with enthusiasm, so I played some because I could rebound and occasionally score (besides the fact coaches had to play every kid on the team).

Probably the most memorable locale of my mid school life, though, was the band room, and because of that, I always associate my middle school years with the band director, John Mattern. Mr. Mattern looked sort of like a short cross between comedian Chris Elliot and Richard Dreyfuss, and he had Elliot’s levity and the Dreyfuss character Glenn Holland’s seriousness (Mr. Holland’s Opus). In fifth grade at the elementary school, my parents asked me if I wanted to play in band, and when I said yes, I became a trumpeter, if only because that instrument looked doable. When I came to Eisenhower, I was a trumpeter in Mattern’s beginning band. In a short time, Mattern worked his magic and asked if any of us trumpet kids would be willing to learn the bigger baritone. I was asked, in part because I was a bigger kid, and in part because I was amenable to most everything, and perhaps because he thought I might like the challenge. Soon I was a a baritone player. As time and he would have it, the marching band my eighth grade year needed a sousaphone player. I was tall, “You can do it”, he told me. And like that, I was a tuba player. In all of the changes though, Mr. Mattern was always a friendly, encouraging, kind teacher who liked to help his kids grow, and who liked to build his bands. He personally put a lot of time into my life in those years, and his prodding into bass horns helped me to enter Eldorado High School ready for marching band and its good performance bands.

Eisenhower was certainly a trippy three years of my life, but it had some high points, including participation in Mr. Mattern’s Opus. Or opuses. Or opera. Or opi. Whatever you call those many magic moments.