We were in eighth grade’s twilight days.  I remember my friends and I wanted school to be over and I remember we were a bit too big for our britches—we thought we were cool.

I suppose we weren’t unusual, but in recollecting, I feel for the teachers who were hopeful we would get a tighter rein on our horses.  Our instructors had to be praying for year’s rapid conclusion.  One of our educators was a grizzled pro and had no intention of losing control at this late date.  To prove this point I submit the following example.

On this particular morning, the agenda was a public service type film, probably meant to communicate the dangers of drugs or venereal diseases (STDs).  Both topics were germane, but as I said, we were cool and were determined to let all know.  To paint the scene, this was an old school projection system, I suppose you would call it reel to reel, with an incandescent light that shown images on silvery screen supported by tripod—YouTube was a few years off.  Often was the case with movies of this nature, that the soundtrack was jazzy, like it was lifted from a B-grade beatnik serial.  As the tune’s percussion section hammered on, my friend began snapping fingers in time.  I found this amusing and joined effort as did two others.  Though lights had been dimmed to help sharpen illumination’s appearance it was easy for teacher to home in on our cricket-like snaps.  Confident she knew who comprised our quartet, she stopped film and turned overhead fluorescents back on.

We looked at each other with angst.  One by one our names were called as if assembling a police lineup.  There was an odd stillness in the room as all, including my group of rebels, wondered what form of discipline would be doled out.

The exact wording I can’t accurately say, but it went something like this:

“It seems several members of the class enjoy the theme music and want to take part.  We will give them that chance.  For the duration of the presentation, you four will remain standing and snap your fingers,” she said with a look that required no interpretation.

The projector was reengaged, and we kept beat.  Ever the dissident, my friend did level best to make his snapping so loud it would disrupt the narration.  I followed suit and our efforts did interfere with actor’s voice, until the projector’s volume was increased.  The two others who comprised our team were tired and embarrassed and chose to snap in dull, almost imperceptible tones.  When feature ended, my hand was cramping, and my buddy bore open blisters on fingertips.

As classmates stared, we were told to take seats.  I for one had difficulty focusing for the remaining fifteen minutes as I considered whether actions taken had been worth price paid.

I doubt if any of those present on that day remember our insubordination.  In retrospect it makes me wonder what we were thinking as there was nothing to prove.  I guess I’d say it was conspiracy of age, gender, boredom, and the season—Spring.