Recess

I took a recess of sorts from my blog, as you may have noticed.

Only I wasn’t playing. I was doing homework. Finals next week!

Anyway, this prompted me to write a post about what recess means to me… (cue flashback ripples)

My elementary school was great. Don’t get me wrong. It was virtually bully-free. But in order to be bully-free, we had to be stripped of several unnecessary rights–many of which involved recess. Whenever anyone got hurt during recess, we had rights taken away.

When a girl threw up on the tire swings, we were told we couldn’t spin on the tire swings any more. We could only use them to swing up and down, which became boring quickly.

When one kid got his leg stuck between the bars of our playground, we were told we had to stay away from the sides of the playground.

After a couple kids tripped in the mud on the field, we could no longer play tag or the blob in the field by the tree.

After a kid twisted his ankle, we could no longer jump of the swings.

We were never allowed to run between swings in motion, throw snowballs at each other, run on the playground, or play dodge ball (like they do in the movies). After a while, they even told us we couldn’t go “penguin sliding” (which was what we called sliding on our bellies down a not-very-steep hill at the time) although no one ever got hurt doing that.

During recess, when I was younger, we would blame the wrecking of our snow forts on the older kids. When we were older, we  blamed it on the younger kids.

At recess, I would plan the film my friends and I intended to be a huge blockbuster hit (this was back when Blockbuster was still around, mind you). I would draw tons of squiggly lines with chalk and make my friends walk the “maze.” I would avoid four square and the basketball court. I would run around tagging people or being tagged. I would create secret clubs, fall down Niagara Falls, turn into a mermaid, sell wood chips in the black market, begin building forts that would inevitably be destroyed the following day, sneak past parapros, fall of the “spinny thing” that never had a proper name and still doesn’t, show off on the gymnastics bars, make my hands raw on the monkey bars, race my friends down the slide, and talk.

It was the golden life.

Except for all the rules we couldn’t break. But I can’t complain much now, since in high school we don’t have any recess.

I went for a walk today.

I went for a walk today.

Yep. A walk.

I know you’re probably marveling at my ability to get off the couch and enjoy the cold and sunshine. Admittedly, I refused to part with my dear couch until I finished the 512-page conclusion of the Matched trilogy.

After reading the last page, I didn’t really know what to do, so I ate a cheese stick, some brownies, and some fig newtons. Then my dad suggested I go for a walk. When I say “suggested,” I use the term lightly. It was more of a verdict.

At this point, I decided that I should finish my homework. I told my father so and he actually let me off the hook. Then I had an obligation to actually DO the homework…

But it was no good. My dog had heard the “W” word. He was running laps around our kitchen table. As soon as I finished my homework, I had no choice in the matter.

So, I went for a walk today.