My high school is your run-of-the-mill, lame-a*s, Jersey-Shore-perpetuating high school. We’re not by any means extraordinary. Sadly, we’re just average.
But then, there are these moments. These moments when you realize: Hot d**n! My school is actually a bit original.
And lemme tell you—I don’t mean that in a good way.
See, they couldn’t be normal and just give us PE. They had to make all the freshmen take a special class to “build teamwork” and “encourage trust”. They just had to make us take Project Adventure, didn’t they?
Oh, yes. See, Project Adventure is a program where a full freshman class plays games while wearing blindfolds. And then we climb ropes. And beams. And tightropes. THAT ARE OVER TEN FEET IN THE AIR.
Lest we forget that we get to work with others during “difficult, team-building tasks”. Read: let teenage boys (and fine, some girls) grab you and lift you over, under, across and through some obstacle courses, including a spider-web that you have to get pushed through.
If only you could see my face…
In any case, as you know, in early September I got in a car accident and, consequently, a concussion. Needless to say, I was excused from PE for a while. When I finally came back, it was mid-October and the class was starting to get into the advanced climbing activities.
Mmhmm. Leave it to me to come back to PE on one of the most challenging days.
Our task? Simple:
· Climb up a rickety metal ladder that two people hold steady for you (Psh. As if…)
· From there, grab onto the hooks and holds on the wooden pole the ladder was leaning on and keep climbing
· Climb onto the wooden beam held between two poles (about 30 feet in the air or so), walk across and jump off backwards at the end (For the love of god, people, this isn’t Fear Factor!!!)
It would seem I’m the only one with a fear of heights.
After much indecision and internal conflict (the plot thickens!), I decided to attempt the obstacle based on the theory that if this was difficult, everything else we’d do later on would be easy by comparison (HA!). Besides, my friend had already declared she wouldn’t go near the thing and I wanted supreme bragging rights for all of Eternity!!! Mine, all mine… *Cue maniacal hand rubbing*
I stalked towards the ladder and tried not to pee myself. While my Mr. Gym (our sneaky nickname for the teacher whose name we didn’t know) was securing my harness (a rope with a series of knots that I tied myself, thank you very much), I mentioned my fear of heights and he suggested that I hold on to the rope attached to the pulley, keep my balance with a straight back and not look down (Even though—supposedly—I wouldn’t fall).
I looked at the two typical high-school sleazebags holding the ladder on either end and ordered them away, replacing them with two (somewhat) reliable friends. They gave me dirty looks as they walked away, but I ignored them. After all, they were the ones who made fun of me last year. Ahem. This was no time to settle scores, gentlemen.
The second my signature red Converse hit the metal of the ladder, the butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t stop. What were they, doing gymnastics in there?
Whatever. I steeled my courage (or perhaps stupidity?) and began to climb the ladder. I got all the way to the top of the pole, before climbing onto the beam, thanks to a steady mantra of “You got this, Carmel, you got this, you’re amazing, you rock, you’re okay, you’re not gonna fall, DON’T LOOK DOWN, you got this, you kick a*s.”
Run-on sentences. How I love them.
Once I got to the top, I crossed over the beam, leaned my back against it and fought to control the sadistic butterflies in my stomach. Then I swallowed hard, stood up straight, looked dead ahead and walked.
It was then, of course, that my derangement began to show. A quarter of the way through, a familiar voice began to trickle through my head. A familiar voice that was singing….singing…
… “Shall we take ourselves seriously? Shall we talk about it all night long? Shall we think we are so evolved? Will we be depressed If were wrong? Shall we take ourselves seriously? Shall we take ourselves elsewhere?...”
Who else but Frankie? He always does show up at the most inopportune times…
I grinned like a neurotic madwoman and hauled a*s to the end. Then I squeezed my eyes shut and launched myself backwards while fist-pumping the air, my hand in the ‘rock-on’ symbol.
All while fighting the nauseating feeling of defying gravity.
When I finally touched the ground, my legs were shaking and Frank was gone from my head. My teacher shook my hand, congratulated me (“You made it look easy!”) and then my friends dragged me off.
Ahem. All in a day’s Project Adventures…
Ahh yes those lovely high school gym classes. I was on the swim team, my gym teacher was the wrestling coach, who referred to swimmers as a certain part of the female anatomy. He also made sure that he paired swimmers with wrestler in competion. We referred to him as certain part of the male anatomy. I hated that class.
Well done....I remember when I had to do something similar in high school. Mine did not turn out so well, my spotters did not catch me as I fell off the uneven bars and landed on my neck sending me to the hospital.
It's all good though, boy did they look funny when that bucket of blood fell on their heads.
Conquering one's fears is an essential life-building skill -- you go grrl!