CrossFit Athletic Group

Chris

I'm gonna miss gettin beat up in the b-room

Stan

If that yearbook message doesn't illustrate what St. Dennis is all about, nothing will. But in all fairness to me, you can't expect anyone to tolerate seeing the same people every day for eight years without resorting to the occasional attempted battery. I just wish I was as tough as Stan made me sound.

For you kids that don't know, I went to school right down the street at St. Dennis Elementary - along with the likes of Tara, Aly, Collin, and Aaron Sexton (am I missing anyone?) I am well aware that this post may be relevant to nobody outside those four, but if there are any other random readers out there still making key-word lists and reciting Down by the Bay backwards, then may this serve as some kind of closure to the picture above.

Enjoy!

...........

My intro to academia started with the Letter people - Mr. M and his Munchy Mouth in particular. We were also introduced to Elmer's glue, scissors, the days of the week, and months of the year. It was happy and fun and everything Kindergarten was supposed to be.

Then Mrs. Clark entered the picture.

High school football games under the lights, 4th quarter free throws in front of a ruckus crowd, and delivering movement seminars in front of people all paled in comparison to the tension I felt taking my first Time Tests. After all, math is gets really difficult when you have a tyrant staring you down with her 1920's oven timer tick-tick-tick-tick-ticking in the background.

Mrs. Clark was to us first-graders wat Bobby Knight was to his Indiana basketball players. She called my house when I talked to Spencer Mick during class, made me stay in from recess when I forgot to write my name on papers, and put the fear of God in me every time I didn't pronounce "dog," "log," and "frog" like I was at the doctor's office for a throat exam. Then after every single day, she made us line up to give her a hug on the way out. It was sinister. And for that, I loved her to death. Now I realize why. The habits I learned in Mrs. Clark's class carried on through the rest of elementary school and made getting good grades a lot easier for me. She taught me how to read. She taught me how to write. She taught me how to math. And that's really all school at that level is about.

It's also interesting to think about all the little milestones in elementary school. We all went through the period where learning cursive was the coolest thing in the world... until we had to take the handwriting tests. It wasn't until we passed those bad boys that we were finally granted the privilege to write with a pen instead of a pencil. But my life was forever changed on that one foul day in 2nd grade:

I had to change my card to yellow.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was about to piss my blue uniform pants when I thought I heard Mrs. Koral say we were allowed to take a bathroom break. So I left my seat and walked out of the classroom down the hall to the boys bathroom. I even saw my cousin, Josh. "Hi Josh," I probably said as I did my business (this was pre-concussions so I hadn't developed my stutter yet). I also began to notice that nobody in my class followed me down. I assumed I was the only one that had to go. But when I got back to the classroom, Mrs. Koral asked,

"WHERE DID YOU GO??"

"...the bathroom?" I replied

"You have to get the bathroom pass to go!"

"I thought you said..."

"No exceptions, Chris. Turn your card."

I died a little bit that day.

...........

Junior High killed me a little bit more, and it started with the following sentence:

This month I have received ___ demerits; therefore I am writing this sentence ___ times to help me remember to make better choices in the future.

Few things in this world have annoyed me more than demerits. State fans come close. Same with wild Zubat in Mt. Moon. But Jesus, there were so many freaking things you could get demerits for. DET, BOC, MLA, GCIC, DCV, BMNBTC - if you can name what all of those stood for then you probably spent a lot of your recesses with me eating lunch in the classroom. Did writing that sentence help make better choices in the future? Well, if I did so many that it was permanently lodged in my memory, then probably not.

However, the most destructive thing I was ever a part of somehow went demeritless. During one of the few 7th grade recesses I managed to not have detention, I found myself locked in a classic parking lot football battle with my grade and my cousin Josh's star-studded 6th grade class. On this December afternoon, we had the teams mixed. On our first drive of the game towards the school-side endzone, I saw Alex Marcotullio open on a post-pattern. Josh was covering and while he is slow as dirt, I knew my pass would have to be perfect. Needless to say, I threw a laser beam right past Josh and into Marco's hands. Unfortunately, he was wearing these huge winter gloves and the ball deflected off him and sailed straight through the window of... naturally... Mrs. Clark's classroom. Everyone froze. Then out of nowhere, Brandon Bly screamed out,

"RUN!"

Everybody started to run around in circles. I kinda blacked out and forgot what happened after that. I think I may have told a lunch mom because I felt guilty.

...........

I suppose I make it sound like St. Dennis was a bad experience for me. Which, I mean, isn't too far from the truth. It was school, man. My interests have always been elsewhere. But when I went to the Credit Union yesterday and saw the CAT plowing through the Library and Mrs. Tamm's office, it was just weird, you know? I think about how all four of my grandparents were regular members of that parish. My dad and my uncles (who most of you know) all went to school there. Shoot, during my 8th grade year, every single Sinagoga cousin minus Geena was in that school: me (8th), Josh (7th), Sarah (6th), Anna (5th), Jessica (3rd), and Jameson and Julia were in Kindergarten. It was where we were assigned recess stations, where we couldn't shoot 3's because the beams were in the way, where Mr. McCulloch made us do jigsaw puzzles (jigsaw puzzles!) in our free time, where there was a club called O.F.L.A.S., where Blaise Raona walked to 7/11 during the Walk-A-Thon, where we SELL FRUUUUUIIIIIIITTTTTTTT, where I stuttered saying my name at a pep rally, where they sold Canned Cheese Product for lunch, where Bagel days gave us the briefest of breaks from the norm, where Mrs. Cormier sometimes made me think reading wasn't so bad, where we had to sing in church, and where AAAAHHHHH IT'S A NEW KID! happened.

If small schools have anything over larger schools, it is the connected family environment. For as much as I love what Mott is doing with Phys. Ed., (met their principal yesterday by the way... total G!) students can walk past someone every day in their halls they have never seen before and will probably never see again. I think that sucks. If a small school can embrace their intimacy, then the students will never truly leave (something I think Foley has royally messed up). St. Dennis had that going for them before their doors closed. Everyone who went there could relate to "Feet down, sit up" and skid marks. While it wasn't the fanciest setting, it was unique. And only a small group of people - especially kids our age - can say they were a part of it.

That's kind of a cool thing. And now it's a Kroger.

The rest of the demolition pictures can be seen in the October '15 Daily WODs Gallery. Also, David Morasso, Mike Marzan, Noyes Campbell, and the Novak/Reeser family didn't make the essay but definitely deserve a shoutout. They're good people.

RIP St. Dennis. 1959-2015