Let's Get Physical (Education)

"P.E." - For most Americans, these two letters conjure up a wealth of vivid memories: the sound of sneakers squeaking on a gymnasium floor, that unique locker room scent of decades-old dirty sweat socks mixed with Ben-Gay, the curious yet not unwelcome sensation elicited by hoisting oneself up the climbing rope and, of course, the recollection of being knocked to the ground with a serious head contusion by a softball and then having the only responsible adult present tell you to "walk it off."

Yes, there's little question that the memory of physical education class remains us long after our school years are done, often even despite many years of therapy.

So it was with some trepidation that I recently agreed to become a volunteer helping out in my six-year-old daughter's once weekly parent-led physical education classes. I fully understand that P.E. has progressed dramatically since my day, and that nowadays physical education class curricula are created by knowledgeable professionals who establish goals based on age-appropriate developmental stages and an in-depth understanding of proper childhood fitness. Whereas the only apparent "goal" I can recall from my own P.E. experience was for the P.E. teacher to keep us all busy long enough for our "normal," teacher to calm her frayed nerves by gulping down a cup of coffee and chain smoking in the teachers' lounge.

Back then, of course, the class wasn't even called "P.E." It was called "gym," most likely to avoid confusing people into thinking that any actual education was taking place. And gym class wasn't exactly a model of organization either. I recall during elementary school that, weather permitting, we boys would be given a football and sent out onto the schoolyard to spend the period playing a game we called - I swear this is true - "Kill the Kid With the Ball." And while I understand that different versions of this game were played elsewhere, I've always felt that our version was superior because we managed to incorporate the game's entire set of rules right there into the name of the game.

In junior high, the gym teachers were more serious, as demonstrated by the addition of innovative tools like whistles, clipboards and skin-tight shorts. And while many of the activities lacked the blood-pumping excitement associated with the threat of homicide implied by "Kill the Kid With the Ball," most of us nevertheless kept up our heart rates by huddling behind the rafters in fear of receiving noogies, wedgies, swirlies, nurples and the other forms of gym class abuse meted out by our burlier classmates, many of whom at age 13 were already capable of growing a decent beard on short notice. And the boys were even scarier!

Perhaps worse were those rare days when the gym teachers, most likely having received word that representatives of the President's Council on Physical Fitness were about to do another spot check, would line us all up to do chin-ups. I swear, if only America's gym teachers of the 1970s had been correct in their belief that forced chin-ups and being struck repeatedly by a red rubber ball were the keys to long-term physical fitness, our country wouldn't be facing an obesity problem today.

But now that I'm helping out in my daughter's P.E. class, all my formative gym class experiences are finally coming in handy. For example, before volunteering, I made sure that none of the kids in the class were tall enough to give me a noogie.

It also helps that Peggy, my fellow parent who co-runs the class with me, has plenty of teaching experience and actually knows what she's doing. From her I've picked up several tips for making the class run smoothly, including memorizing each child's name ahead of time, preparing multiple activities so that the kids don't get bored, and her less-than-subtle suggestion that I might want to show up on time. And sober.

In fact, so far what we've done is to give all the kids the same toy - a hula hoop one week, a jump rope the next, etc. - and then coordinate different games incorporating that toy. For some reason, most of the games I come up with wind up the same way, with the kids all chasing after me while menacingly brandishing their toys. But that's OK, because to date I've still met all my expectations for the class - the kids are enjoying themselves, they're getting some real exercise, and the other parents have yet to file any sort of class action lawsuit against me.

Not to mention that, in addition to getting the kids moving, my leadership has also stoked their creativity. Why, just last week they came up with a whole new twist on a longtime favorite P.E. game. They call it "Kill the Teacher With the Ball."