Recess: It's a jungle (jim) out there.

School's back in session—with all the trimmings.

This time of year is one of nostalgia, of remembering the smells and sights of returning for another year. Upon arriving for that first day of, say, third or fourth or fifth grade, I can remember my order of necessary data requirements being something like:

1) Who will be my teacher?
2) Who will be in my class? (I really hope she is in my class, but I'd really like to avoid him, because he always flicks me in the ear and slaps my stomach with a math book.)
3) When is recess? I really want to try out these new Converse, since my mom spent eighteen fifty on them and my dad told me, "They'd better make you faster for eighteen bucks."

Once recess did roll around, I realized that nothing much had changed. The same kids did the same things. Oh, look—that group of girls still spins around the bar in their dresses, so I'll go ahead and watch that for a while.

Hey, there's that group of guys that always plays Star Trek. Last year, whenever we chose the characters, Spock was always chosen first, and then Captain Kirk. I never understood why the first officer would be preferred over the captain until I watched this scene:

I guess we know who's really in control of the Star Ship Enterprise.

I'm not going to walk past that group of guys over there, because they're going to ask me to smoke with them after school, including inhaling.

Aww, there she is. I wonder if she notices my new glasses. I'll just casually walk by her and glance her way as the sun glints off these decent new frames. Okay, she didn't see me. That's beat (author's note: "beat" is a 1970s-era, south King County word, meaning undesirable or bad.).

I guess all that's really left out here is to get into the soccer game. Looks like they're choosing up sides over there, and I hate lining up to get picked by other kids. You learn exactly where you stack up in this jungle pecking order, and I've got a feeling I'll be perceived as a hobbled Wildebeest.

Wheww, there's the bell. Time to line up to go back inside. Let's see...I've only got to go through this exercise two more times today and then three times for the next 179 days. That's only 539 more times.

I miss summer vacation.