To The “Class of ‘74”….and more

Part 1 of 4

Freshman Year

I remember the first time I stepped off the bus at Lewis Junior High School….like most of us who came from Mosby I was a bit nervous about going to the much bigger school district. All my life there had been mostly my 14 fellow grade school classmates in our small country school. Now I was going to a school where my Freshmen classmates numbered more in the 350 to 400 range. And more chilling to me was that I assumed most of them already knew each other well. I was thinking how I just knew I was going to stick out and would be the proverbial foible to pranks by some of my new classmates.

But a funny thing happened on my way into school…you see, every Saturday morning from the time I was 6 and could pick up a bowling ball, my dad took my older brother Randy and I to bowl in the Prep/Junior bowling league at the old Y-Bowl. And there I had met and made friends who I had bowled with all those years. Imagine my relief when I saw several of those same people trudging into school recognizing me and saying “hello”. And it made it easier when a couple of those same people not only had a locker near me (especially since I had never encountered a locker before Junior High) but also had 1st Hour with me.

That first day seemed so surreal…the fears of being lost in the crowd subsided when, as I went to each new class, I was introduced to someone new. It seemed, for once, being the new kid in class actually was a good thing. There were no preconceived notions of who I was save for the teachers who were sure I would be like my older and much smarter brother Randy. (Boy were they wrong)

So here we were…the Class of ’74 in our Freshman year.

For some, like me, it was a year of big changes. For others, life was the same as always.

People who know me now cannot believe that when I was younger I was a shy young kid. I always drifted to the back of the crowd….hiding in fear of being recognized or ridiculed if I stood out or spoke up. When they ask me what changed that, I always blame several things….

Freshman Speech Class/Home Room.

Think back Class of ’74 members….if you had Ms. Reeves Speech Class our Freshman year and it was also your Home Room, you are responsible for my change from a shy young lad to the rather outgoing personality whom you see now. (I remember many of you so you can’t escape with a not guilty plea)

Well, that and Football/Baseball. But we can talk about those later.

You see, it was there that I lost my fear of being me, not just Randy Kilgore’s younger brother. And for that I am thankful….somehow, in all this new scenery I was just Mark.

It was there I made my very first Speech in front of class…by myself…knees knocking and all. And I neither threw up, nor ran from the room in fear. (I remember when I ran for Student Council Secretary in HS and had to give a speech in Assembly I used all the things we learned is Speech Class)

It was from that class that I got my very first important role in a school play. (Remember “Up The Down Staircase”?)

And it was in that class I got my very first threat to have my head dunked in the toilet.

I got my very first swat with a paddle from Mr. Shepherd when Shelby Smith and I fought over closing one of the windows on a cold Winter day. (And that wasn’t the only punishment I got that day for that transgression…but once again we can talk about that later)

But in reality it wasn’t really just the Speech Class….you all just built the foundation.

Freshman Sports…

We never really had any organized sports growing up in Mosby, save for the town baseball team that we all played in during the summer. So, imagine my bewilderment when I walked into the locker room to put on my practice pads for football.

First…I had never seen a real locker room, nor did I have a clue about what all the pads you had to wear as part of your uniform were for. (Found out the first day how important a cup and hip pads were)

We got all the leftover equipment from the Varsity squad, so you can imagine what a rag-tag group we looked like as we put on our uniforms. Sliding on everything seemed so foreign to me, but that wasn’t the ultimate embarrassment when it came to the uniforms…..the real insult came when you got your helmet. Anyone remember the “Roger Ramjet” helmets some of us were forced to wear?

We were never really a force to be reckoned with, that Freshmen team. I’m not even sure what our record was. I just remember learning that Coaches love to torture their players making them do endless jumping jacks, figure-eight rolls, and laps around the field. I remember thinking after that year, maybe I wasn’t really cut out for football and I wouldn’t go out next year when I was a Sophomore because all the guys in the older classes were so big and I was sure that I would be killed. I only told one person that….and the person I told would forever change the direction of my life.

Coach Michael...

It’s hard to forget the first time you meet the person who truly changed the course of your life. We all have a “fork in the road” somewhere in our lives where the choices we make alter the direction of where our lives go. And we all have friends or mentors who give us wisdom or provide guidance. For me, it came in the form of a person who not only became my mentor, but is now someone I see as a friend.

I was never really any good when it came to Science growing up…so when it came time to choose between Physical Science and General Science, I chose the one that meant I didn’t have to cut up dead frogs. I remember the first day walking into that room as if it was almost yesterday….the faces all seem so vivid now.

Mike Ambrose, Marcia Anderson, Connie Carver, Lenore Clarito, Les McNeely, Donnie Hannah….and sitting at the front of the class, the teacher. I remember thinking walking into that room…man that teacher can’t be much older than all of us, and for sure not taller. I wondered, listening to all that noise in the class before the bell, if this guy was going to be able to handle what seemed to be an unruly bunch.

The bell rang…and I heard these rather commanding words:

“Ladies and gents, please turn around, face the front and stop talking. I am Mr. Michael, this is General Science and if you aren’t supposed to be here, then you need to hit the door quickly, walk at a safe but speedy pace and be prepared with the excuse you will need to give the teacher”.

Deathly silence….no one moving.

“Good, then everyone is supposed to be here. I only have 3 rules for my class and if you follow them you will do fine here. One, be on time or if you are late you should have an excuse that would make me cry. Two, when I am talking, you aren’t. If you are and you don’t stop when I ask you to, then you might find yourself on the wrong end of my paddle or Mr. Shepherd’s paddle. And lastly, always be prepared by having your assignments done before you come to class. Follow these 3 rules and we will have a great year….don’t follow them and it will be a very long year for you.”

And true to his word…it was a great year. That class was fun, we learned, we laughed, we learned some more. There were days of intense studying and days when Donnie, Les and David Moss seemed to entertain the crowd with their antics and Mr. Michael would just make sure he contained the mayhem.

But it was the first day that is forever etched in my mind as to how special “Coach” Michael would become. You see, on my first day at Lewis Junior High School there was really only one downside to the day. In each one of my classes, as the teacher would call roll, they would call my name, stop and ask, “are you Randy Kilgore’s younger brother?” I would answer the proverbial, “yes, he is my older brother” and would get the “ah so I won’t have to worry about you will I.” (Just one time I wish I would have answered with something rather than yes)

Everyone knows the frustration of being labeled “someone’s younger sibling” when you are growing up. I didn’t begrudge my older brother who he was, I just wanted to be ME and for people to see me differently.

I remember it vividly….Coach Michael was going thru the roll…calling out each name. I was prepared for the question I had gotten so many times before. He got to my name….”Kilgore, Mark?” I acknowledged and prepared to answer as I had all day. Waiting for the next question I was for sure would be asked, all I heard next was “King, Shelley”.

I was stunned….no, actually pleased. The roll call continued, then was finished and class began. I don’t think I really heard much that day in his class.

For once….I was just me.