the tire swing. spin faster and faster. the sicker you get. the monkeybars and the balance beam. some of us may have had fun at the playground whereas others just sat and ate sand. still others kicked the chainlink fence.
the icecream man always had the bigsticks for a quarter. those always sold fast, due to the quality and quanity of a icecream bar for 25¢. with your treat in hand, you would head over to the jungle gym and would climb that mt. everest of the playground and roost at the top, watching others scramble around the green grass and clay dirt.
the popular girls always hung out together, swapping their containers of lip gloss and calling the "unpopular girls" names. there were the uncoordinated, non athletic boys that sat on the benches, constantly tying and retying their laces, looking busy, hoping that they would blend into the scenery. waiting for the recess bell to ring so they could go back to the safety of the classroom.
tetherball always had a line forming. you lose, back of the line. the toughest, littlest girl was the #1 player of the school, and if you could beat her, you were something.
we watched as team leaders formed kickball teams, waiting to be picked and hoping we weren't the last one. you knew that you had a chance when the science geek came to play, because his teacher told him to.
"we get the geek with the glasses. you guys get granati."
then a bellow of sighs and curses. "no, we had him yesterday. you get him today."
the recess monitor always seemed to be the meanest, toughest teacher the school had. you dreaded that shiny, silver whistle of hers. if she looked at you, you looked away and tried to ignore her glare. she had a clipboard and pen, anxiously waiting to take down a name. mine, it was always written down. and it always had two checkmarks next to it. . .