Sixth grade is an odd, uncomfortable, and sometimes funny time of childhood. It’s the last year of elementary school, if there is a junior high school to switch to, or it is the last grade to be in one classroom all day long. My elementary school went from kindergarten through eighth grade; I was still in grade school until the new Junior high opened. Then I would join with other students who lived east of Germantown Avenue. Half of my friends would just move from one side of the hall on the third floor to the other and be in seventh grade. I was in the half who would be moving on to a whole new school building devoted to only two grades, seventh and eighth. I felt excited and scared at the same time.
This was the year when I grew into my full nerdiness. I not only had braces on my teeth, I was about to get glasses. Squinting all year to avoid them no longer worked. I saw kids with glasses as nerds, and thanked God I wasn’t one of them. Now I would be, and with braces to add to the embarrassment. Oh, I forgot to mention that I was “chubby”, overweight starting at age 10. I will never be a member of the “in-group”, not that I ever had a chance.
When my seat was changed to the last on the fifth row, I could no longer get away with the squint. Glasses were obligatory now. A note from my teacher about her concern and a few failed quizzes…I never failed quizzes or tests….made an eye appointment a certainty. I had been moved to the back of the room because all of a sudden in my transition from 11 to 12 years old I had grown a few inches. I no longer needed to be sitting near the front. Once per report period, every seven weeks we lined up around the room by size and then took new seats. Some class members seemed to always sit in the front. They were and probably always would be little people. So I joined the “scarecrows”, those who started growing early, and were gawky since first or second grade. I had always been medium, but now I was one of the tall ones after a growth spurt to 5 feet 8 inches. That plus “metal mouth” and “four eyes” sealed my future. I had grown into a full-fledged nerd.
As I first moved to my new position in the back, something that I had not counted on occurred. I was seated next to this term’s new girl in class, the also tall Charlotte Rothberg. I had never been so close to her until now. At first glance when she first arrived I thought she was cute or perhaps pretty. Upon closer examination she was beautiful. I was smitten, in love, and about to become an official nerd. As I gazed at her not expecting a glance back, she turned, smiled at me and we started to talk. She seemed to enjoy talking to me. Could this be? We whispered to each other often, were caught by the teacher and given demerits in the teacher’s grade book. I started to be seen in the class as her boyfriend. I was not embarrassed; I was proud and thrilled.
At recess in the schoolyard I was made fun of as “Chary’s boyfriend”. It didn’t seem to bother her, and it certainly didn’t annoy me. She and her girlfriends clustered together, giggled glancing in my direction. Were they laughing at me or were they on my side? Who could tell? As long as she was nice to me, I enjoyed the attention.
My self consciousness from my braces and my ugly black rimmed glasses was relieved by my connection with the most beautiful girl in 6th grade. I wondered if she was just my friend. Did she know how much I liked her? How did she feel about me?
In the classroom it seemed like Charlotte and I were separate from the rest. All of the others faded into the background, until the interruptions of Miss White to stop our talking broke the trance. Charlotte and Michael…the two of us.
Then Roy Beauchamp entered the scene and everything began to come apart. I forgot I guess that Roy was the star of the class, not the smartest, but the handsomest with thick blonde hair, blue eyes and super-star athletic ability.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him staring at Charlotte from time to time, not shyly, but with a steady gaze designed to catch her attention. During recess he started to stand next to her, edging her away from her cluster of girlfriends. I noticed his moves, and could do nothing. I was shy out in the schoolyard. I never went close to Charlotte or any girl outside. In the classroom, I didn’t have to do anything to be close to her. Miss. White had placed me right in the next desk.
It was when Charlotte began to stare back at Roy in the classroom that I knew I was on my way out. I didn’t know what to do to counter his confident and audacious moves. He was the handsomest and most popular boy in the class. I was just a nerd with glasses, braces and corduroy pants sized “Husky.”
As days passed Charlotte and I continued to whisper to each other across the row, and get caught by Miss White, calling attention to ourselves before the whole class, including Roy. Roy turned often to smile at Charlotte and to glare at me. Clearly I was seen as the competition. Only inside it seemed, for out in the schoolyard I was still the last to be chosen for football or baseball. No competition anywhere else but in class.
But I was starting to feel pretty good about that limited status. I was tied with Roy, and with Charlotte we were the most visible and influential trio in the 6th grade. I was a celebrity actually. I was competing with Roy for the affections of the prettiest girl in class. I didn’t know how long this status would continue, but I noticed that everything could remain in place as long as Charlotte and I communicated and Charlotte and Roy communicated. With no direct contact between Roy and me I was safe from confrontation. We could maintain separate relationships and live in icy peace.
Just when I realized how to maintain the rules of the relationship the situation came to a head. A baseball game was to be played in the schoolyard at lunch. As usual the two strongest players were to choose sides. I stood on the sidelines of the playing field waiting for the predictable final lineup with me chosen last or not at all. Today was different. Instead of Roy choosing sides against the other star athlete, that player, David Taylor handed the baseball bat to me saying that he didn’t want to lead a team that day.
“ How about if you and Roy choose sides, Michael?” David said with a knowing and provocative smile. I couldn’t tell if he was setting me up to fail or acknowledging my star status. I flushed with surprise, pride, and fear all at the same time.
Roy and I faced each other directly for the first time, holding the bat between us. In order to determine who would choose first we had to grab the bat with our hands , one above another until only the tip of the bat could be grasped. I held the last bit of the bat between my thumb and forefinger. I deftly swung the bat around my head three times as I had seen it done hundreds of times…but never by me. I then began to choose my team.
My first choice was the star of course, David Taylor. Roy scowled and tensed , ready for the confrontation. David smiled and moved to my side. He was my friend and ally. We walked to school together every day since second grade. He would be my champion. Roy refused to look at him. He chose players for his team, maintaining his icy stare at me. If possible that stare would have bored a hole between my eyes into my brain.
Funny, over the years since kindergarten Roy and I peacefully coexisted, no competition, and minimal contact. There was no reason for connection. We were in different groups. It was Roy and his guys: Chuck, Craig and Bobby, all athletes with some intelligence. My friends were not a solid clique, they weren’t a gang of visible guys. They were smart talkers with a couple who were also great athletes, David, Jack and Gary.
The game was to be played for 45 minutes. In spite of my team’s efforts, Roy and Craig were unstoppable hitters. The game was no longer interesting when the score reached 20 to 4. We struggled to get to 4. As usual I struck out each time I came up to bat., except for the last time when I miraculously made contact with the ball and smashed it over the back cyclone fence into Mrs. Jarvis’ yard. Lost forever, and the game had to end due to lack of a ball.
As we collected the equipment and placed the bats, gloves, and bases in the canvas bag, Roy and I brushed against each other. The slight contact felt like an electric shock.
“Watch it!” I snapped reactively. I instantly wished I could have taken it back, but the die was cast.
Roy shoved me, and I nearly fell backward. Immediately a crowd gathered, mostly boys and a few girls. I scanned the circle for Charlotte and her girlfriends. They were not among the blood-thirsty audience for the action drama ahead. In fact it turned out that they were already back in the classroom helping Miss White with the bulletin board decorations for Halloween. Part of me was disappointed that she wasn’t around for the battle for her affections.
Surprisingly I landed a few good punches in the melee, and the “crowd roared” approval and support. I felt my fist make contact with Roy’s shoulder, chin and nose. I was amazed when I saw blood trickling down from his right nostril to his upper lip. I was pretty tough I thought. Everything moved ahead as in a dream. I felt detached from my body for most of the battle, so I felt no impact or pain from the blows that kept hitting their mark to my chest and stomach. As with everything else I was a “head” man and Roy was a “body” attacker. His head was like iron, and my body was like putty. I was jarred into physical awareness by a crushing blow to my chest that knocked the breath out of me and I crumbled to the ground.
My guys gathered around me, concerned and amazed at the same time. The concern lightened when my breathing returned to pained but regular gasping.
The fight had lasted only a few minutes, but the amazement lasted for weeks. I had battled the giant and lost, but I had bloodied the giant’s nose. Never before had I fought against anyone or for anyone. I never have since either. It had been frightening and exhilarating, and most of it seemed automatic, out of my control, as if I had been watching the fight with the rest of the crowd. I was holding my own until I was wrenched back into awareness by my pain, and then I lost.
Roy and I became friends after the great event. Not buddies, but respectful friends. I never saw him get into another fight after that, and he had been a veteran of many before ours. Perhaps this was the last fight for both of us.
Charlotte was not present for the romantic battle for her affection, but I’m sure she learned of it. She never mentioned it to me or to Roy. Almost immediately it became a non-issue, when a new contender arrived in our class. Jonathan was handsome or maybe beautiful, smart and strong. His eyes met Charlotte’s and hers met his. The competition was over. Both Roy and I were out of the game.
The passion that exploded for both Roy and me was well worth the fight. We were knights in a tournament fighting for the scarf of a beautiful lady. It had been our first heroic, romantic encounter. Then we both returned to the end of 6th grade and moved on to Junior High and the rest of our life.