Everybody goes through an awkward phase in elementary
school. Some would argue that all of elementary school (and for many, all of
junior high) is an awkward phase. While that may be true, in my particular
experience, one grade outshines them all in pure, unadulterated awkward: fourth
grade.
I began the fourth grade in 1996 when I was nine years old. It
was a weird time for me: I was on the verge of getting braces, and I had
recently discovered that there was a life outside of The Lion King. The pressure was on to start being “cool,” and I had
no idea where to begin. Clearly, neither did the rest of my classmates: we took
all our cues from Clueless. Sure, we
were nine-year-old Midwesterners comparing ourselves to teenage Californians
with rich parents, but to our little fourth grade selves, it didn’t matter. We
picked up two major things from Clueless:
sassy terminology and feather pens.
Simpler times. |
Before Clueless, none
of us had been exposed to the phrases “as if” or “whatever.” After Clueless, hardly a sentence was uttered
without containing one or both. I’m not even sure we knew what “as if” meant.
No matter: we still used “as if” with gusto. We scrawled it on our notebooks
along with that weird “smile” made out of bubble letters.
And oh, the feather pens. They were one of the strangest
trends to ever hit Arlington Elementary School. A feather pen is exactly what
it sounds like: a pen with a little marabou pouf on the end. For a good portion
of fourth grade, I wanted nothing more than a feather pen. However, my lack of
income made that a problem. You could only get feather pens in one place within
a 30-mile radius of my house, and that was at Maurices in Brookings. Every time
I visited my grandma in Brookings, I begged her to take me there. Maurices was
THE store: if you got your clothes from Maurices, you were SOMEBODY (according
to Arlington Elementary standards). I would gaze longingly at the feather pen
display, wanting terribly to have one of my very own. Oddly enough, I never
thought to actually TELL anyone that I wanted a feather pen. I’m pretty sure
they were five dollars, and had she known, my grandma certainly would’ve
purchased one for me. I have no idea how I thought I would get a feather pen
without anyone being aware of my desire for one. ESP, probably.
For my tenth birthday, I had a sleepover at my house. We had
pizza and listened to “MMMBop” on repeat: ten-year-old heaven. The time came,
as it usually does when birthdays are involved, to open presents. When I saw a
small cylindrical package, I immediately knew what was in it. I don’t remember
who gave it to me, but in the package was a lime green feather pen. My life was
complete.
Lime green was THE color of 1996/1997. I have no idea why: it
just was. Everything had to be lime green. When my grandma took me
back-to-school shopping, I got her to buy me a pair of lime green overall
shorts, a t-shirt with lime green flowers along the neck, and a pair of lime
green Keds: you’d better believe I wore them all at once and ALL the time.
Sadly, this is real. |
When
I got braces, my first set of rubber bands was lime green. I begged my parents
to allow me to paint my room lime green (believe it or not, they declined). Anything
and everything that could be lime green, was.
Along with the Clueless
vernacular, a number of 1960s catchphrases made a bizarre comeback amongst
the fourth grade crowd. We began to call things “groovy” and doodled little
peace signs on our homework. Each and every one of us had grand plans to
purchase a Volkswagen Beetle as soon as we had our learner’s permits. Yin yang
signs were also big, even though I’m fairly certain no one knew what they meant:
we just knew that they were easy to draw.
Looking back on the fourth grade, it’s almost pitiful. I
thought I was the epitome of cool with my non-ironic John Lennon glasses and my
lime green wardrobe. At that age, I was astonishingly easy to please. It only
took a ridiculous feather pen to make me happy for months on end. Ah, simpler
times. Now, instead of a feather pen I can’t live without, my tastes have
gotten a little more expensive. I’m fairly certain I can’t live without a new
car. However, unlike my desire for a feather pen, I have made my desire for a
new car well known amongst my family and friends. Something tells me they
stopped listening a long time ago, so maybe I will have to revert to the simple
pleasures of my youth to fill the void (sigh). If only I could find my
Tamagotchi…
I've been thinking about this time recently and the feather pens. Nice.
ReplyDeleteUgh, those feather pens. Yet another indication of my questionable taste! :)
ReplyDelete