The Girls in Grade 10 Gym Class  

It wasn’t the Ice Capades.
There were no sweet and fuzzy mascots on skates.
No Fred Flinstones pulling off triple sow cows.
No Big Birds performing quadruple jumps in front of hundreds
Of howling spectators.
Just 26 fifteen-year old girls, circa 1982, sneering with grade 10 attitude
And one whistle-blowing female gym teacher.
It may be cliché, but we were sure she was gay,
At least, she always seemed to enter the change room
while we were in various stages of undress
But I digress.

It wasn’t the Ice Capades
It was adolescent girls on skates,
Wobbling our way through the ice-skating curriculum of Grade 10 gym class.
We began with a simple lap around the ice
Skating like B-movie zombies,
Legs stiff because bending our knees was an impossibility
When we were encased in jeans so tight,
We had to fight with a coat hanger every morning
Just to pull up our flies.

But skate we did, until our manly gym teacher, Ms. Zypp,
announced that for the next hour and 15
we would form groups of four
and plan and practice a skating routine
that we would perform next class.

Did you ever notice that high school gym teachers always said “we”
Even though no one in the history of Ross Shep
Had ever seen Ms. Zypp actually do any exercise.
But we’d gotten wise
And we knew that while we worked out,
She’d go out and suck a couple of Export A’s.
Just like she did that day

When she was gone we broke into throngs of four, choosing our friends,
Hooking up quickly with girls who were deemed somewhat cool
Hoping like hell
We didn’t get stuck with the class geek…
Alice, who would completely freak anytime someone said “Ched”.
So of course, we all did.
Because we were fifteen.

So I found my team.
Tanya, who was 6 feet tall and 100 pounds.
Another Janice
Who’d never put on skates before.
And Karen…the girl I spent most of junior high living in fear of
Only to find out she was totally stoned the whole time.

We spent 10 minutes giggling, then we actually got down to work.
We skated a few circles, a few figure eights that looked more like nines.
And we each managed a spin, with only a few bruising falls
Then I was called upon by my group to bring…the music
Because I was the only proud owner of the new album
everyone else on my team coveted
Hot Shots by Trooper.
And we knew that next class, our routine would be super
Because we’d choreograph it to the rocking guitar
Of the Boys in the Bright White Sports Car.

The big day finally arrived
And somehow each of us survived
the waiting
and the watching
of the lame routines put on—lamely—by the other girls
Who whirled about to such predictable tunes like Beethoven’s Fifth
Or We’ve Only Just Begun by the Carpenters.
But soon, it was our turn.
And I turned on my cassette player
Loud
And to the opening riff
We whipped out onto the ice.
We were almost in time to the first glorious line:
Here we come, the boys in the bright white sports car.
We weren’t exactly skating straight
But we were there
Waving our arms in the air
And we all hung a left
Except for Tanya, who hung a right…
Right into the boards.
The rest of us manouevered a little jump
And pumped our fists in victory
Until the other Janice, who, as I said, never really skated before
Got her pick stuck in the ice floor.
And slid to the blue line on her face.
We remaining two tried to keep the routine in place.
And one at a time
We contorted our bodies
And miraculously
Against all odds
accomplished a backward skate
But Karen wiped out…real quick…and real bad.
And I, skating too close to Karen
simply tripped…over her head.

In the end, it was just as well
Because we hadn’t actually planned a routine long enough
to take us through more than the first verse of the song.

While we lay on the ice
Exhausted by endless fits of giggles
spurred on even further by a frowning Ms. Zypp
Who was having yet another nic-fit,
The band played on.
Trooper played on
Asking the musical question: who do they think they are?
We are
We were
The girls of grade-10 gym class.

© 2006 Jan Mann