1979: 6th Grade Memories: Judson or Foster?

Episode 19 - 6^th grade Memories: Judson or Foster?

I’d met Keith Taylor during the summer prior to the beginning of the 6^th grade. He and I took part in the Longview Public Library summer activities, and we’d become pretty good friends. He had already known he was going to be going to Judson, while I was sure I was going to Foster. He had told me, “You don’t want to go there- they have fights everyday, they break into your locker and steal all of your things, and they give out homework every single day!” I never did ask him how did he know that, but when we parted that summer, I was thinking I wouldn’t see him again for three years. Well, I wound up at Judson, and I was happy that at least I’d be attending school with Keith, even though we only had PE together. And I was happy I wasn’t going to the school where he said all of those terrible things happened.

Well, after school started and I’d been riding the bus for awhile, and after seeing all of the wonderful homework I was getting in almost every class except for PE and Choir, and after I’d had my locker broken into twice and lost two combination locks, I wondered whether or not I was at the right school- because it sure didn’t feel like it. If Foster was as bad as everyone claimed it to be, then Judson must’ve been just a step above hell in comparison. One thing that cannot be overstated and something I’ve thought about more and more as the years have gone by is the fact that a lot of black kids back then were ANGRY, with a capital A- angry because they had to switch schools for no reason other than integration and fixing the black-white ratio. What made it worse was that white kids were not having to move and switch schools, just black kids. White kids could go to whatever middle school they were close to, while black kids had to be bussed way across town, passing up two middle schools to get to the one farthest north and actually outside of the city limits. It meant having to get up earlier than normal, riding a bus not worth sitting in a junkyard, and going to a school where the majority of the faculty was probably not used to dealing with kids who lived on the southside of town. Then think about the 7^th graders and 8^th graders who’d been at Foster and/or Forest Park previously. Now they were being told they had to go to Judson. A lot of them were mad, and they basically took it out on everyone. The next year, some of the black kids were told that they would no longer be going to Judson- instead they’d be bussed to Forest Park. The majority of these kids lived on the eastside of Longview off Young Street and in that area, and I imagine that originally they weren’t too happy about that, but then at least, they’d be closer to home for what it was worth.

Starting out, it was a mess. Black kids were having fights everyday, with each other for the most part. I can recall a lot of them saying they were having fights just so they could be sent back to Foster. Which, of course, didn’t work and didn’t happen. A lot of these kids were older, 7^th and 8^th graders, who just did not want to be there. My classmates and I really weren’t into all that fighting too much, but many of us had best and good friends we’d been separated from in having to switch schools, and that and having to be punching bags for some of the more angrier ones made us not want to be there either. Judson, too, was looked upon as being the harder, tougher school when it came to academics, and the higher volume of homework and the strict grading policy gave evidence to that. Back then, it was possible to have homework in just about every class, and to have to carry three or four books home to do it. That also made a lot of us not like Judson very much.

But probably the biggest reason we hated going to Judson during our 6^th grade year back then was its football team. The 8^th grade team that year was HORRIBLE, they lost every single game that year. The 7^th grade teams weren’t too much better, they might have won one game between them. But all of the teams were atrociously bad. Our first few pep rallies were memorable in the sense that many of the kids were cheering for and chanting for Foster instead of Judson. The funny part, if one could call it that, was that they were chanting for Foster no matter who we were playing that week, whether it was Forest Park, Marshall, or one of the Pine Tree teams. And the chants and cheers would be LOUD, meaning one could hear them very, very clearly. I remember the very first pep rally they made almost all of us 6^th graders sit on the floor, and we showed our appreciation by chanting for Foster on almost every cheer. I also remember Mr. Gregory, the assistant principal, giving us such a dirty look, that if looks could kill, there would have been a mass murder that afternoon. I was chanting for Foster, too, at the time because I really didn’t want to be at Judson myself. And the football team wasn’t all that good anyway, so the purpose of a pep rally was being defeated in all the ways possible.

However, by the time football season ended, we (the 6^th graders) had accepted Judson as our school and we were no longer cheering for Foster or wishing we were there. A lot of the 7^th and 8^th graders would continue to beat that drum into the ground, however, all the way into their 8^th and 9^th grade years respectively, but slowly but surely, a lot of them would change as well, and the school spirit became a lot stronger as a result. By the time I was in the 8^th grade, we were all proud to be Blue Devils.

1979: Memories of the 6th Grade - Riding The Worst Bus Ever

Episode 18: 1979 - Memories of the 6^th grade – Riding The Worst Bus Ever

My 6^th grade year would easily be the best year I would spend at Judson. I’m not saying it was perfect (because it wasn’t), but it was easily the best out of the three years I was there. My 7^th grade year would turn out to be a total nightmare, and as for my 8^th grade year, I was just there and wanted it to be over. However, I can honestly say that I enjoyed my 6^th grade year for the most part, and I really thought I was going to enjoy my entire time at Judson.

Really, the worst part about school back then wasn’t the classes I was taking or the homework given (which was A LOT considering, and more than I’d ever had before); the worst part about going to school that year (and the next) was riding the bus. As I’ve stated, we got stuck with the worst bus they had at the bus barn, bus 55, which probably would have lost a race with an old man in a wheelchair and a crawling baby. That bus had to have been the raggiest vehicle I’ve ever been in, and it was late coming and going every…single…day…. And I cannot count the number of times we would sit broken down on the side of the road or highway, while other buses would pass us by, the kids laughing at us as they passed. Why they didn’t just give us a different bus to ride in I’ll never know. (I’ve got some ideas as to why, however, and considering the time period I’m looking back on, I’m probably correct in my thinking.) Then our bus was over-crowded, we had three kids in every seat, and a lot of times kids had to stand up, due to either there being nowhere to sit or certain kids being bullies and not letting other kids sit down. That happened a lot back then and it was totally ridiculous and uncalled for. I was always one of the last ones to get on the bus and not by choice as some silly people assumed back then. I wasn’t allowed to walk somewhere closer so I could have somewhere to sit, so a lot of times, I had to stand up or whatever, and that usually made for a very uncomfortable trip in more ways than one. Add the fact that for about a month or two, we had a bus driver who didn’t give a damn about us and who’d usually be smoking while driving the bus (even though there was a fat “No Smoking” sign right there at the front of the bus), and you’ve got the recipe for miserable rides on Bus 55.

The first day of school had went without incident. However, after that, it was on. Every single day there was a fight on the bus. I’m serious- Every…single…day. And usually it was because there were a group of kids who loved to bully other kids, calling them names, making fun of them, and so forth and so on- to the point to where fights got started. I didn’t know them at the time, but I had to ride with some 7^th and 8^th graders who seemed to love to pick on people for whatever reason. Some of my classmates were minor bullies themselves, but not to the extent of the older kids. It was a shame, really. I can remember fights starting as soon as we left Judson and continuing throughout the whole trip- the bus driver would just laugh and keep going- and it was just totally ridiculous. I can remember certain kids (whose names I won’t mention here) who seemed to just thrive on picking on people and daring anyone to do anything about it. Then I can remember various bus drivers (we had our share after they finally fired the first one we had) putting kids off and out of the bus for fighting no matter where we were at when the fight started. Once, some kids got put out on Eastman Road five minutes after leaving Judson- and there was nothing out there at the time but fields and trees. Another time we put some out at the corner of Alpine and Eastman Road. Kids who weren’t fighting would get off the bus also, just to see the ones who got put off fight some more, which really wasn’t all that smart back then. Because then they couldn’t get back on and the fight was basically over anyway….and now you’re stuck with having to walk multiple blocks home. Riding the bus was chaotic back then, and I HATED riding the bus with a passion.

I’m not going to say that I didn’t get picked on or I didn’t have a fight on the bus, because on both accounts, I did. The weird thing back then was I didn’t know why I was getting picked on at times, and that it was actually happening was new to me. I remember the fight I had on the bus as clear as yesterday because it was with Roy Craine (and it really wasn’t that much of a fight, because we’d always been pretty good friends), and I was angry about something that had happened earlier that day. Long story short, we had been in PE, and that day, the coach seemingly was in a bad mood because we were taking our time dressing out, so he made us sit on the floor and watch the girls’ PE class do some gymnastics. He said he wanted no talking and if any of us talked, we’d get a paddling. Well, a fat girl jumped off the trampoline very ungracefully and fell, and I snickered. He motioned for me to come here, and I was the first to get paddled that day even though I tried to tell him I hadn’t talked, just snickered. There wound up being five or six of us getting paddled that day, but I didn’t care about that. I was angry, and I went straight to the office and called Momma and told her what happened. Anyway, by the time it was time to go home and we were on the bus, I still hadn’t calmed down. And Roy wasn’t making it no better as he made fun of me getting paddled nonstop (which was in front of everyone by the way- both the paddling and getting made fun of). I told him to shut up and leave me alone, but he wouldn’t, then the next thing I know, I’m pulling him over the seat and we’re punching each other. Fortunately, Tracy (George) and Wilbert Thomas broke us up before the bus driver could stop the bus and throw us off. But I was hot and Roy and I were STILL talking trash to one another when I got off the bus. My momma was waiting for me, and Carla, who got off the bus with me, told Momma what happened on the bus. It led to me having to go to Roy’s house and apologizing (He also apologized), and we’ve continued to be friends ever since. My momma wasn’t too upset about me getting a paddling, but she definitely didn’t like me getting into a fight with one of my friends even more so. She talked to the coach, who admitted he hadn’t actually seen me talk but snicker, but I shouldn’t have made any sounds period- Coach Hendricks and I got along really good from that day forward, and as I’ve said, Roy and I are still friends to this day, so there was a happy ending there.

Meanwhile, on the bus, things just kept getting more and more worse. My neighbor, the afore-mentioned Carla, was getting picked on unmercifully by this girl who was older than the both of us. In fact, she was an 8^th grader and probably the biggest and worst bully on the bus. She’d either have a seat all to herself, or she’d let this one boy sit down with her almost every day. And she could fight like a man. I steered clear of her, because I could tell she was crazy, but she was making Carla’s life miserable on the bus. She absolutely HATED Carla, and she’d pick on her just trying to get her to fight her. A few times Carla did fight her, and it was sad, to say the least. Carla was not a fighter, and the girl would usually get the best of her. Other times, Carla would just try to ignore her, but it was difficult. One day, the girl was determined to fight Carla no matter what- Carla ignored her but it wasn’t doing much good. Carla and I got off of the bus right in front of my house, and the girl and some of her friends followed us. The girl grabbed Carla right in our driveway, and fortunately, Momma was right there at the door and she came outside. Momma asked me what was going on and I told her that the girl was picking on Carla and trying to provoke her into a fight. Momma talked to the girl and the girl told Momma she was going to whip Carla’s you-know-what and no one was going to stop her. Oh Lord, I thought, because I saw the look on my momma’s face and it was not a good look. “I don’t think so.” Momma said. “I think you best need to be going home.” They basically had a staring contest before the girl and her friends finally left. Momma told me later she had never seen a child with the look of being like a wild animal or a savage, until she saw that girl, and she was afraid of what was going to happen if the girl decided to try her. In all honesty, I was, too, because I know my momma.

Riding the bus that year was really just a small part of my 6^th grade life, and although it was bad at times, it actually would get even more worse my 7^th grade year. When I started the 8^th grade, Mr. Thompson would be the bus driver that year, and as Public Enemy would say, all the BS stopped. But for now, I had to deal with that, but as far as school went, the fun was just beginning.