1969 was a memorable year for many reasons: a new president was inaugurated (Nixon), humans first walked on the moon, the NY Mets won the World Series (worst to first in one year), and I had to attend school on a Saturday.
Saturday school, ugh.
Can you imagine?
The combination of snow days, holidays and an, extra (leap) day meant the last day of school would be on a Monday, so the teachers union worked out a deal with the administration to end the year on a Friday instead. The teachers agreed to work one Saturday in the spring of my 4th grade year.
Obviously, the lunchroom people, custodians, bus drivers, crossing guards, and administrators all had to be on the same page. Not ending on a Monday must have been really, really important to everyone.
On the appointed day, instead of watching cartoons, including the new Batman/Superman Hour, catching frogs, climbing trees, or riding bikes with my friends, we waited for the bus to take us to school.
Once there, they divided the kids into two groups: the “good kids” and the “bad kids.” I suspect it might have been about who was doing their work and who wasn’t, but I’m not really sure. I remember pleading my case to be placed in the “good kids” group but it was to no avail. Apparently, I was a "bad kid."
The “good kids” basically played outside most of the day, except when they went to the cafeteria to watch a movie. My group stayed in one classroom and did work all day long. When we got to go outside it was for a normal recess, not the super-long outdoor time the other kids got. We did not get to watch a movie.
It wasn’t fair. I could see and hear my friends running around outside while I was doing work. They played kickball, red light/green light, freeze tag, red rover and everything. They were having a blast. For me, it was like torture.
Do I sound bitter?
Yes?
Yes, I am. After all these years, I’m still a little mad about going to school on a Saturday. It was the worst school day ever.
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