It just came to me out of nowhere, but I think his name was Mr. Mock. He was the gym teacher who made elementary school ten times more fun, especially for extremely playful kids like myself. Why would anyone want to sit around, study, and get lost in messed up thoughts when you could be flying and giggling in the air half way during some leaping jump? You could be chasing kids around in hide and seek, or you could be running away from them in a game of tag.
Gym time was just that, and Mr. Mock made it fun by incorporating sports elements to it; although I cared less about sports. We played a game of kickball, as I remember it. It was the closest to tag that I could play during school. My heart skipped a beat every time we were to begin gym class. Not only was the whole concept of gym fun, but I also had a budding innocent little crush on Mr. Mock.
He looked like a Ken doll, or Flash the superhero from some TV show in either the 80s or the 90s that had always stuck with me. He had brownish hair, blue eyes, and a sharp jawline. And he always wore gym clothes, which included a track jacket.
Yeah, so granted I was probably nine and he was probably over forty, now that I look back… and embarrassingly bite my lip. As a kid, your concept of “a crush” is really really innocent and extremely vague. You have to remember that as kids, we’re brainwashed with romantic ideals from television and movies that constantly showed adults in love. It was always like “maybe I’d grow up and get a chance”… I guess. It was super innocent.
Every time he gave me attention in the class, I felt like I was the only one. When you have a crush on someone, it distorts your mind into believing that they’re paying attention to solely you, when in actuality, they’re treating everyone the same. But I do remember one time, when he was teaching us how to play baseball, where I felt extra special. I was sitting down with all the kids and listening to him explain the rules. Obviously, I didn’t care. He took my hand and used me as a demo to explain to the kids. He said, “If you’re left handed, you stand to the left” and he led me to the left, and he said, “If you’re right handed, you stand to the right” and he led me to the right. I think I got my directions wrong, so he playfully said left, and pulled me left, or right, and pulled me right, or left, and pulled me left, or right, and pulled me right. I giggled so happily and ostentatiously, and he was laughing too. Basically I was in zen when I sat back down. I felt so special. I thought Mr. Mock would always know who I am.
He did, when I saw him in the parking lot in front of K-Mart. To my childish embarrassment, I was with my entire family including my grandparents when we got out of the car as Mr. Mock was pulling his cart out. I think I froze still, but Mr. Mock did acknowledge and said, “Hi” or gave a nod, or something.
The next day in gym class, he called me “Ms. K-mart” and I felt special and acknowledged. Of course, when I thought about it years later, I wasn’t too ecstatic thinking that K-Mart actually went bankrupt and that company became a joke. Anyway, this was back then. Still, I think he would have remembered me years later. But soon enough, I never saw him again.
I did visit that place when I was in my late teens and entered his empty office in the gym. I never even knew there was an office in the gym. He had a picture of an elderly pear-shaped woman sitting down on a chair at his desk. Maybe it was his wife, but it couldn’t be his mother due to the newness of the picture.
So that was that. Right this minute, I wonder where he is now. In a nursing home? No… he can’t be that old. Maybe he’s in his sixties now. Either way, I doubt he’d remember me. We’d have to zoom back to the past, back to the gym class when he playfully pulled me left, and then right, and then left and then right again. I can still hear the echos of my giggles.
