In the last essay I shared how I was the only boy in the first grade at Deerfield Elementary School in school years 1947-1948. I shared the class with five girls. For some reason I thought that was normal. I know I liked it. The girls all seemed to like me for some reason. They taught me how to play a game called “jacks”. It consisted of sitting in a circle on the floor in the hallway during recess with a small rubber ball and a bunch of metal things called jacks. To play you would take 10 jacks and toss them on the terrazzo floor so as not to scatter them too far apart. Then the first player would pitch the ball up in the air slightly with one hand, and immediately sweep up one jack being careful not to touch any of the other jacks. The ball would bounce once during this process, and you had to catch it before it bounced twice while simultaneously holding the jack you’d just swept up. You would put that jack back into the box and repeat the process sweeping up two jacks, this time being careful not to touch any of the other jacks on the floor. If you were successful you would continue sweeping up three jacks the next time, and the final four jacks after that. However, you would lose immediately if at any time you did not catch the ball, or if you touched any extra jack during the process. The loser would then pass the ball and the jacks to the next player, and the game would continue until someone won by picking up all the jacks in proper order without dropping the ball.

The girls already knew the game, as they apparently had been playing it at home before starting first grade. All my preschool games had been with my friend Elmo (see previous essay) and we only played boy games like marbles, catching frogs and climbing trees. Therefore I must have appeared clumsy to the girls, as I specifically remember them laughing at me at first as I struggled to pick up the jacks and catch the bouncing rubber ball. However, I eventually got the hang of it and was able to beat all of the girls some of the time and most of the girls all of the time; but I never achieved beating all of the girls all of the time!

One of the girls, Lynda Dame, apparently liked me a lot. She would show her affection by walking up during recess, punching me in the belly or on the arm, and then running away laughing. I’d always been told by my parents that boys did not hit girls. Therefore Lynda was safe from me responding in kind. However, one day my mother noticed a bruise on me, and asked how I had gotten it. I told her it was from Lynda hitting me at school. Mother looked a little angry. She asked me if there was a reason for her to hit me. I told her no, that she just did it for no reason. Mother then gave me what I thought was a direct order. She told me the next time she hits you, David, you hit her back. I took that literally. Sure enough the next day during recess, Lynda slipped up on me and hit me hard. I remembered my mother’s instructions and started chasing her. As I caught up to her I knew I had to be careful to hit her in the right place, her back. I caught her, spun her around to get a good shot, and hit her with my left fist squarely in the back with all of my might! She went down crying. I walked away proudly thinking, “I did it just like Mother said to do. I hit her right in the back”! Lynda never hit me again, and we eventually became great friends.

David Eller
Publisher