Mr. Mason was the only gym teacher I ever had. Until grade six, our regular teachers did the job, herding us all outside to play kickball or something, but in grade six they handed us off to Mr. Mason, who made us change into shorts—no matter the season—and run laps. In grade seven, he started teaching us all about sex and health. In grade eight, I asked him why the skin on my feet was peeling so much. He laughed and said I was probably going to die. And I decided not to take gym in grade nine.
Photo by
Manu Pombrol on Flickr. All rights reserved.
Added to Magpie Tales—115.
ReplyDeleteLove your sly sense of humor!
ReplyDeletethat's funny!.. :-)
ReplyDeleteThose gym teachers were their own breed. Good decision. Nice take.
ReplyDeletewell he was mean. Probably hated his job! Good decision on your part!
ReplyDeleteThis is great! I loved the honesty.
ReplyDeleteIck. Gym teachers.
ReplyDeleteSo off he went and invented the Mason jar to pickle children who wriggled out of gym class? :)
ReplyDeleteThat's funny because I had a gym teacher named Miss Ball...
ReplyDelete. . . likes this.
Deletethose shorts were horrendous too....and mr meredith, our gym teacher, told us football jokes during sex ed...that were rather scarring honestly...
ReplyDeletefun write. Love the guys name is mason. It's funny, I was trying to remember what those jars were called and just couldn't recall it, then bang, instant recall reading your piece. Great job. thanks
ReplyDeleteGreat Mag! My Mr. Mason was Miss Wortman ~ the daughter of a mafia crime boss in E. St. Louis IL ~ no kidding. We were a little terrified of her.
ReplyDeleteWe were convinced Ms. Jones, our gym teacher, was a man!
ReplyDelete"this is life, nobody gets out alive "- great yarn
ReplyDeleteMr. Mason -> toooooo funneee
ReplyDeleterenal test
verification makes it really hard to comment. you'd get more comments if you turned it off. i had to do this several times to get it to work.