Thursday, September 30, 2010

Seventh Grade, and Eighth

I had thought that I would conclude my school experiences with the sixth grade experience. But upon further reflection, the passage of some time, and a dearth of ideas for blog posts, I thought to move on to seventh grade.

As I had completed the elementary program and with fall approaching, the subject of school once again (ugh!) arose in the household. I would be moving on to junior high school, a facility a couple of miles away, and housing seventh, eighth and ninth grades. My best friend would be a student there and in the same grade as I. My parents, though, ever clever parents, thought that it would be the better part of wisdom for me to attend parochial school. But they knew me much too well to demand that I do so. Hence, they gave me a choice. Go ahead and go to PJHS, or ride my shiny new bicycle which could be obtained by agreeing to the parochial school. They knew me well.

Thus began a five-year relationship with the other educational choice. My beautiful JCHiggins bicycle was soon to accumulate many more miles than any of us had imagined likely. The school in which I enrolled for seventh grade was a small, two room church sponsored school. Grades one through four were housed in one room with Mrs. Ogden, and grades five through eight were in the other room with Miss Stetson. I spent two years in Miss Stetson's class, thus completing eighth grade. I graduated second in my class. I was beat out for first place by Mrs. Ogden's daughter. There was no third place.

Bicycle shown is correct, even to color, except that I had a custom-made seat post eighteen inches long with a seven-inch goose neck, so that I could achieve full extension. Oh, and the handlebars were inverted and turned full upward. The mileage was largely achieved through a three-year stint as a bicycle messenger for Western Union.


Secondary Roads said...

I had a couple of different bikes. The best was patched together from parts. The racked up a lot of miles taking me around three different in-town paper routes.

vanilla said...

Chuck-- You were an entrepreneur, I, a peon.