Diary of a Fat Girl - Episode 17: An Open Letter to My Former Gym Teachers

Dear Beverly gym teachers from Briscoe and the high school (years 1995-2002),

You probably don't remember me.  While I think it's safe to say that many of my teachers, especially those in the English department, at least have a fair shot at remembering me because of my strong work ethic and endless brown-nosing, I doubt that either of those traits came through in the work I did for you.  In fact, I was probably firmly seated among the least memorable students, because I never caused much of a ruckus nor was I one of the elite who seemed to excel so easily at the various activities we did.  I enjoyed some of the games, stayed in the background for others, and walked the mile we were supposed to run for the Presidential Fitness Test.  Well, in middle school I at least tried to run it, but it became apparent by high school that I was not capable.  In fact, I spent most of my teenage years thinking I probably had asthma because of how difficult it was for me to breathe while running.  Turns out I was just fat and out of shape.

Gym class was one of the only places in school where I consistently felt like a failure.  I guess that's a good thing, from a certain perspective - most of the time, I did well in school and had a decent amount of success, Accelerated Algebra II notwithstanding (Mrs. McCarthy, go fuck yourself.  I still like math despite your horrible teaching).  But in gym class, at least the majority of the time, I was constantly reminded of how bad I was at everything.  It is only now, over a decade since my last phys ed class, that I am starting to understand that it was not my fault.

The curriculum was not exactly great.  If you look at what schools are supposed to be teaching in a gym class (or at least, covering between gym and health, which are separated for some reason), it sounds all well and fine, but that was not what you taught me.  We did a different sport every few weeks, rotating through them on some mysterious schedule that none of us were privy to except for you.  A few weeks of volleyball, then floor hockey, then flag football, then basketball, then tennis, then pickleball (aka "hey, go get that"), and so on.  We were rarely given any direct instruction as to the rules of these sports, but instead were expected to know them already, I guess from previous gym classes.  We had no advice as to strategy, and for team sports like flag football, indoor kids like myself were all but encouraged to keep to the side and stay out of the jocks' way.  There were no objectives, no goals, and no purpose.  Once we got changed and did our obligatory warmup, we were to wander over to the equipment bin or the field or whatever made sense for the "unit" we were on.  Your job was apparently to yell at kids who didn't want to play and make sure that no one hurt themselves or others too badly.

In fact, I don't recall you doing any instruction at all.  It seems a little strange that a teacher would be a full-time babysitter who just watches kids play for 45 minutes at a time.  What exactly did you go to school for, anyway?  I know that some of you were pretty old school and were gym teachers back when Kennedy was elected, but Jesus, even a gym teacher is a teacher.  It's right there in your title.  If nothing else, couldn't you do a little game theory?  Or strategies for the games we played?  Maybe I would have enjoyed flag football a little more if someone bothered to explain to me that there were four downs and that the goal was to get the ball ten yards closer to the other team's end zone.  Why did I have to wait until my brother explained football to me when I was 16, when I supposedly had been playing it since sixth grade?  With even the lowest possible expectations, wasn't that your job?

Of course, playing a series of sports (badly) doesn't have to be, nor should it be, the foundation of a gym class.  Where was the instruction on nutrition?  The guidance on how to be fit outside of class?  The information about anatomy and physiology that would help us understand our bodies and get/keep them in shape?  Even assuming that a health class would cover many of the topics pertinent to teenagers, like reproductive health and substance abuse/addiction, I suspect that there's more to fitness than shooting baskets by myself on the far end of the gym because I can't run enough to play an actual game.  I don't know if the blame for this immense lack of content should be placed on those who write the curriculum or those who teach the gym teachers or just the gym teachers themselves.  I don't think I can blame you entirely, because the dramatizations I've seen of fictional gym classes seem pretty similar to my experience, so at the very least, this goes beyond Beverly.

[Quick note: I'm not saying that playing sports has nothing to do with fitness or that sports are not a good use of time.  But first of all, what we were doing was NOT really playing sports, it was some people playing sports and some people pretending to play sports.  Secondly, look at an athlete's training schedule.  100% of his/her time is not spent playing scrimmages.  There's other stuff in there.  Like, a lot of other stuff.]

What I find most frustrating is that there were brief glimpses of actual fitness work at least a few times per year.  In high school, you unlocked a little room underneath some of the bleachers that we called the "Nautilus room" - which I now understand to be the brand of equipment contained therein.  And you let us go to town.  The boys mostly went across the gym to the other little room that had free weights and barbells in it, but we ladies stuck to the less-intimidating machines.  Preacher curls, tricep extensions, chest presses, shoulder presses, leg extensions, and even hip adductors/abductors (which we so cleverly called "the sex machine").  You didn't really tell us what to do or give us any advice - in fact, you usually spent the whole time across with the boys, presumably making sure they didn't drop a 400 lb barbell on their necks - but I loved it.  There's something primal and satisfying about moving weight around, and this was my favorite "unit" of the year, with the possible exception of floor hockey, which is one of the few things I am terrible at but still enjoy.

Perhaps if you had let me work in the Nautilus room instead of making me stand around like an asshole waiting to miss a tennis ball, I might have developed a real appreciation for strength training.  Like, in 1999 instead of in 2012.  I'm not saying it would have necessarily happened, and it's possible I would have just screwed around in there and learned nothing.  But it's also possible I would have actually gotten something out of gym class beyond confusion and shame.

Remember around the end of the school year when we were forced to participate in the Presidential Fitness Testing?  Of course you remember - it was the only time that any outside standards or expectations tried to hold you accountable for doing anything with us.  It's like the MCAS of gym.  The five activities we performed for these tests were: V-sit (flexibility), mile run, shuttle sprints, pull-ups, and sit-ups.  You know what would have helped me do better on those tests?  IF WE HAD EVER TRIED DOING ANY OF THOSE THINGS BEFORE BEING TESTED ON THEM.  The most you ever made us run was doing a lap around the gym for a warm-up, which was less than a quarter mile.  And forget pull-ups and sit-ups, that shit was totally foreign to me until test day.  That's like leaving me in a library to pick my nose and then giving me a reading comprehension test.  Yeah, I was surrounded by the tools that could improve my skills, but if you don't show me how to use them and work with me, what the fuck am I supposed to learn?

More than anything else, I feel disappointed about the wasted opportunity.  You had my undivided attention for 45 minutes every single day.  If I had spent even half of that time being truly active, I might not have gone from a size 10 to a size 16 over the course of high school and college.  Sure, my eating habits can take the brunt of the blame for that, but now that I know it's possible to ignite a passion for fitness inside myself, I'm angry that it took this long to happen.  YOU were the ones who could have helped me.  YOU were the ones responsible for my physical education.  YOU had the knowledge, the equipment, and the time to spare to help me get fit.  And you didn't.  You wasted my time, you made me dislike the very activities that I should have been engaging in regularly, and you judged me for it.  Maybe you think we don't notice the disdain with which you interact with the "non-sports" kids.  Maybe you think we can't see the eye rolls or the heavy sighs of impatience when we don't jump at the chance to go run around for a half hour.  Well, it was obvious to me, and I'm sure to the other kids too, exactly who you felt was worthy of your time.  And it sure as shit wasn't the chubby girl who couldn't run a mile.

I know there are a lot of barriers to having high-quality physical education in American schools.  No Child Left Behind and its test-based accountability has forced districts to emphasize the core subject areas to the detriment of electives, extra-curricular activities, sports, clubs, and even recess in elementary schools.  In Massachusetts, the MCAS tests students in English, Math, and Science.  All other subject areas and interests must be considered only after those three subjects have been covered thoroughly, which takes up a substantial portion of the day.  From a district-level perspective, I can understand that it's easy to cut phys ed requirements to make room for more academic considerations.  But gym getting the shaft makes it even more important that you make the best possible use of the time you have with kids.  You need to find ways to improve your curriculum and your teaching, and emphasize core skills and knowledge with what little time you do have.  I'm a teacher, so trust me; I know what the fuck I'm talking about here.  You don't have time to screw around with pickleball.  If you don't have control over the requirements and the administrative decisions, at least don't be a fucking asshole when it comes to decisions you do control.  Help kids.  Teach them.  Encourage them to develop skills for life in a safe, nonjudgmental environment.  Try differentiated instruction for once, you twats.

It's been a decade since I graduated high school, and I now teach in an alternative high school program for students who are struggling to graduate.  When students are admitted to my program, their schedules are created and their path to graduation is mapped out.  You know what we do to make the numbers work?  We get gym and health requirements waved.  Do you know why we do this?  Because it's easy.  Schools don't give a shit about those requirements, and since we have neither the staff nor the facilities to teach those subject areas, we get them waved.  And it fucking sucks.  Because every day I teach a bunch of overweight, unhealthy inner city kids who eat McDonald's at least twice a day.  They don't know any better, and I'm just the English teacher - the best I can manage is to tell them how many calories they should be eating a day and how many of those are covered by the extra large coffee coolata they got from Dunkin Donuts.  Then it's time to get down to academics, and leave the health stuff behind.

One of my students has clinical depression and also happens to be probably a hundred pounds overweight.  When I started losing weight, we had a few conversations about his own goals and how he was struggling to achieve anything with his inconsistent efforts.  At his request, I printed him the treadmill version of Couch-to-5k for him to try at home, which he has done a few times, but with limited success.  I gave him a Jillian Michaels DVD (that I hated because she's too mean, but he loved) as a reward for coming to school on time on a Monday (a near-impossible feat for many of my students).  But every day I see him, I know he's still struggling.  I wish I could communicate to him how much his life could change if he focused more on fitness.  I want to show him research studies that support regular exercise as a valid treatment for depression.  I want to spend time with him talking about his habits and goals, discussing food diaries and exercise plans, but that's not my place.  In fact, it would be YOUR place.  But you did fuck-all for me, so maybe I shouldn't lament that my school waves phys ed.  After all, what good did it do me?

Sincerely,
Amber H.
BHS Class of 2002
45 pounds lost in 9 months
12:00 mile
Fuck You