| William E. Brower II |
| Written Works of |
| THE CONFESSION AND TRUE ACCOUNTS OF THE CRAZY CLAN
The fall of 1986 was a monumental year for myself and friends. We were about to enter middle school. It was going to be the first time changing classes and teachers. When the bells rang, the halls were filled with students becoming lost in crowds and the shuffling of masses. I arrived in the first room and met up with Scott who later would become the cofounder of our group. The teacher came in and started to explain that if we were good boys and girls, we can play on the computers after we finish our work etc. I mumbled,”Do we get snack and nap time to?” “I heard that!” Was the response. There was a sound like a gunshot as a schoolbook was dropped on the desk. Scot t made a gesture and I turned around to see a pair of fiery eyes glaring at me. This was our reading teacher. There was a few moments of silence which was the calm before the storm. “I don’t like hearing lip from students. You have to learn to open your mouth when given permission. You have a disability in one way or another which is why you are in this class. “I responded with a truthful statement. “I only have a problem with math, I was tested with college level reading skills this past summer.” She continued to stare at me and said, “ I don’t care if you can read a medical book we’re stuck with each other until the end of the year. Now can someone stand up and tell us about themselves?” The class started to be a part of the routine. My pride was broken and I was angry that a teacher would say something like that in a foul tone. It was my turn and I felt it was time to go for a counterattack. I looked at Scott and winked and then faced the class. I started things in your average young pubescent way, “ My name is Philip and I spent the summer building models and reading. I’m an alcoholic, and I gambler. I did the famous mournful pause and continued. It was only a couple games and some beers. Then one turned into two and more until I couldn’t stop. I’m sorry I thought we were in an AA or NA meeting” The class was laughing and I sat down while slapping a high five to Scott. It was his turn to test the ground. “My name is Scott and I spent the summer in a Detention Center. I held up a bank and they caught up with me.” The teacher wrote out some papers and gave one to Scott and myself. We were the first two people lined up for detention. The bell rang soon after that and we parted ways to fight the rush of people. |