Gym class was never my strong suit. I was the kind of student written gym tests were made for, the kind of student whose otherwise perfect honor roll status should not be tarnished by her inability to shoot a free-throw or finish the shuttle-run without falling down.
Now it just so happened that my high school was located a couple of blocks away from a bowling alley. So, in an attempt to be progressive, my gym teachers marched us down the road to be used as guinea pigs for an otherwise unheard of bowling unit.
With a little instruction, every one should be able to score 100 points in a bowling game, or so their theory goes. I’m not sure how they came up with that magic number, but it was set as the standard for obtaining a “C” or better.
They hadn’t counted on me and my ridiculous bowling abilities. The next two weeks went something like this:
Day 1: It’s simple, just walk 1-2-3 and then roll the ball down the alley. 1-2-3 roll.
Day 2: 1-2-3 roll. My ball rolls into the gutter.
Day 3: No, Angela, you’re holding the ball wrong. Hold it like you would a suitcase.
Day 4: Who the hell throws a suitcase? My ball rolls into the gutter.
Day 5: Hmmm.... maybe you need a lighter ball. Try this one.
Day 6: 1-2-3 roll. My ball bounces into the gutter.
Day 7: No, no, no! Your wrist turned at the end. Remember, hold the ball like you would a suitcase!
Day 8: WHO THE HELL THROWS A SUITCASE?! My ball rolls into the gutter.
Day 9: SIGH. Good try.
By day ten I had no less than three gym teachers coaching me through a game of bowling. With their instruction and support, I was able to score 37 points, a new record! After class, one of the gym teachers pulled me aside and whispered, “You never bowled 100 but we’re not going to fail you. We know you tried.”
Pity “C” for the win!