The Sixth Grade Scoop

 


I started sixth grade at James Madison in September, 1970. My homeroom teacher was named Ms. Conway. I never knew if she was married or not, but she was heavyset and in her mid-to-late forties, maybe older. She seemed to be good friends with another teacher who appeared to be the same in age and physical stature. They were always together, but who knows. 


Mine was a coed class and the girls were really pretty. It was in sixth grade that we started having what I called girl/boy parties, where we would all end up at someone’s house and the girls would bring their 45 single records in little groovy looking carry cases, and we would dance and hang out together. Before the night was over, which usually meant 10:00 PM, someone would put on the ‘Colour My World’ record and we would pick a girl to slow dance with. Then someone, usually me, would put on the Partridge Family record ‘I Think I Love You’ and we would lip kiss the girl we were with. It’s just what we all did, or at least my group of friends did, and it was awesome.


As I mentioned before, my curfew was around 10:00PM and my older sister Stephanie‘s curfew was maybe 11:30 or midnight. She was in eighth grade at John Quincy Adams. I always had a crush on her girlfriends, with their long straight hair, and their groovy bell bottoms and purple shirts. They were always really sweet to me. 


Sometimes, when my parents would go out on Saturdays, my sister’s friends would babysit for my youngest sister and brother, Madeleine and Duncan. 


By the time I would get home, everyone was asleep and the babysitters were usually in the den watching Saturday Night Live. So, of course, I would sit next to them on the sofa and we would watch the television together. Without fail, usually when the guest band would start playing, the babysitter would inevitably look at me and ask if she could practice her kissing, to which I would coyly reply “yes, if you must.” 


So, that’s how I learned to French kiss. I mention this because one night I was at one of my friend’s houses, a new girl who was having that weekend’s girl/boy party, and at the end of the night I ended up slow dancing to the record ‘I Think I Love You’ with her. We started kissing and I French kissed her. She pushed me away and, with a startled look, she slapped me and then ran out of the room. Her father call my father and told him to come pick me up. 


On the drive home, my father asked me why I had “scooped” the girl. I told him I didn’t even know what the word “scoop” meant and that all I did was stick my tongue in her mouth. He asked “Is that all you did?” and I said yes. 


We drove the rest of the way home in silence. I wasn’t sure if I was in trouble or not, but he never brought it up again, so I continued to scoop whenever possible.


© 2022 Jeffrey Pipes Guice

My Wonder Years: A Book

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