I began 9th grade at Piner Jr. High in the fall of ’64, at the old location on King Street. I had already put in two years at the school and felt I knew the lay of the land. I got through science in the 8th grade with Mrs.
Science in the 9th grade was a totally different experience. We had a coach as our science instructor. He brooked no nonsense, nothing normal was funny, he mocked students on a regular basis, had a sadistic
streak and did not particularly enjoy teaching or teens. It appeared he was required to do something in addition to coaching and all the Driver’s Ed. spots were taken. I felt we had better give this guy a wide berth. He seemed capable and willing to take someone to the top of Piner Jr. High and throw them off the roof.
The statute of limitations has undoubtably run out after 54 years. I am at last ready to make a clean breast of my Piner Jr. High heist.
The day began taking a test in the coach’s class. I completed it and remembered I had a two pack, cellophane wrapped package of hostess
cupcakes in my jacket pocket. These were the great chocolate cakes with chocolate icing, cream filling and a white, squiggly flourish on the top. I looked around, did not see the coach and fished the cupcakes out of my jacket, as I unwrapped the package with my left hand.
Suddenly I heard, “Stop right their Bucky!” (He was behind me). He held out his hand and I turned the partially unwrapped package over to his possession. He dropped them in his “In-Box”, sat down at his desk and gave me a triumphant smile. Everyone completed the test, the bell rang and we all left. I felt I had just given my cupcakes up for his afternoon snack, but simply viewed it as part of the game of life at Piner Jr. High.
Later in the day, friends were telling me that this same coach had intercepted our classmate, Fran Ritchie, passing a note to another girl. This scoundrel then read Fran’s note out loud to the class and since it regarded a young man she fancied, it was extremely embarrassing. She wept in class, the coach laughed and said he was going to read it to every class he taught tomorrow.
Everyone was upset by this act of cruelty and it offended my sense of decency. Why did he have to be so nasty? I decided I had to take the law into my own hands. I mean, this guy also took my cupcakes! When would his treachery stop?
At the end of the school day, I went by the coach’s classroom. He was
nowhere to be found and I saw my cupcakes still perched in his “In-Box”. Now where would he have parked Fran’s note in preparation for tomorrows reading during each class? I lifted a folder on his desk and there the note sat. I took the document, along with my cupcakes…my back still to the door and prepared to turn and leave.
At that moment, I heard “Sappenfield, what are you doing?” My heart froze, but my mind and body sprang into action. My right hand, which held the note, shoved the entire page of “ripped out” spiral notebook paper into my mouth. In a fraction of a second, to hide the swiped memo, my left hand deftly completed opening the package of cupcakes and shoved them into my mouth, right on top of Fran’s manuscript. Before I turned around, I packed everything down tightly, much along the line of what John Belushi did in the movie “Animal House”, when passing through the cafeteria line.
I turned to face the coach and the music. My cheeks were sticking out, I couldn’t close my mouth and I resembled a chipmunk caught on a bird feeder, with chocolate drool escaping from the corners of my lips.
The coach cocked his head to one side, looking incredulous and again asked (louder), “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I could’t talk or breathe. My mouth was stuffed, Fran’s note was shoved in the back, against my windpipe. I croaked out, “I tot you’d would take my cub capes, so I ‘shubed’ dem into my mouf.”
He grabbed my arm and announced we were going to the office and let our vice-principal, Mr. Church, sort this out. I gagged out, “I need to top for a dwink ub wa-wa-wa-were.” He told me that would have to wait.
We got to the office, he went into Mr. Church’s office, leaving me in the reception area. The school secretary looked at me and started laughing. My mouth wouldn’t close and my cheeks looked like Dizzy Gillespie's. “What is wrong with you?”
“I weally, weally…need a dwink ub wa-were.”
“I suggest you go get one.” Great!
I made a bee-line for the boys room, got several paper towels, deposited the contents of my mouth into them and sent all that evidence down the pipes of the john and into eternity! I then drank from the water fountain, returned to the office as the coach and Mr. Church stepped into the reception area.
Mr. Church sighed, “OK Bucky, what is going on?”
“I wanted my cupcakes”, I explained, “the coach startled me and I shoved them in my mouth to prevent them from being taken away again. It was wrong to bring them into the classroom and I won’t do it again. I learned my lesson, I almost choked to death and I feel it has been a valuable, learning experience.”
They didn’t buy it…smelled a rat in the story, gave me 3-4 whacks with Mr. Church’s board for sneaking around in the coach's classroom and sent me on my way. I got out of Dodge as fast I could!
I never heard anything more regarding Fran’s note or the fact it was missing from the coach’s desk. I could swear he stared at me suspiciously, but he never said anything. AND…I never told a soul. In 54 years, not a word. Not to Fran, my close friends, no one. I knew if I did tell the secret, it would somehow leak out and from wherever he was, (be it from the grave or a nursing home), the coach would track me down, drag me to the top of Piner Jr. High and throw me off the roof.
Further, if the word got out, future students at Piner would no longer use the excuse, “my dog ate my home work”…they would say, “Bucky Sappenfield ate my homework.”
Oh, I had forgotten about Mrs. Tocquigny until this! -- Thanks for the unexpected belly laugh this morning! What a fabulous heist this was! Love it! <3
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