Callemonit Truths – High School 1982

I was sitting on the beach, putting back a few of these

…actually, it was these

…don’t

me…anyway, I was staring out at the ocean with my wife

…well sort of…being I was distracted, haha…no seriously, I kept seeing my sand creation off to the side

and wondering What can I do to make Callemonit.com more endearing to readers…something they can relate to…be inspired by…truly feel in their

…then it dawned on me…instead of always writing fiction, why not tell truths about me

…let people get a peek behind the

into my life…HOWEVER, now that I’m actually doing it, I’m very nervous about venturing down this

of honest revelation…bringing up the past can get a bit

when it comes to emotional scars, hidden secrets, questionable behavior, and undeniable regret…BUT, I believe in my message of living a Callemonit Lifestyle…so here it goes…buckle your

…we’re getting in the

and going back to Day One in an all boys private high school…it was barely 8 AM, and I already made a Top 10 List

as one of the shortest freshmen in a class of 200

…and being my

was located right near the main entrance, I wasn’t the only one who noticed I was vertically challenged…namely, two shining

from the varsity

team wanted to celebrate my achievement…they were walking right toward me…one on each side of a Christian Brother, whom I’d later discover to be my religion teacher…like a horrible children’s

the closest player sniffed me out hiding behind my locker door and bellowed, Oh my

Brother, look at this little guy!…next he grabbed me by the arm and instructed his teammate to secure the other…kind of like this

when your parents would lift and save you from a crashing wave…but not so warm and fuzzy…and as if their brains had some sort of wordless

communication, they proceeded to

me back and forth in perfect unison, high off the tile floor…everyone was

hysterically, including Brother…but then I believe the educator saw my face and had a moment of compassion or maybe just mature clarity…either way, he instructed the guys to put me down…humiliated, I returned to my locker and pretended to organize my

while trying my best not to

ok, hold on…let me stop there and remind myself of the environment I was in…it was high school…boys will be boys, right?…like when fellow students would break into my locker and hide my books in a distant empty locker…or when older bigger players on the

team (of which I was a member for 4 years) would hold me down in the locker room after practice and give me a wedgy…but not just any kind of wedgy…they were

wedgies…the atomic technique forcibly separated the elastic waistband entirely from my underwear…again, humiliating…but like I mentioned boys will be boys, and I’m sure I wasn’t the lone victim of bullying back in the day…that being said, let me continue…still Day One and time for

class…it was instructed by an old school brother…I say old school, because he didn’t dress like the other Christian Brothers…the typical brother resembled a Catholic Priest…they wore black pants, shoes, and shirt with a white collar…however, this brother was always dressed in a gown…something like this

…but the collar didn’t wrap around like this

…it hung from his neck like this

and he was very tall with white hair and a scary voice…scary, because it was deep and a bit raspy, and when he raised the volume, everyone would

like a statue…there was no talking unless called upon…we sat up straight, no shifting around in our seats…and our eyes always faced forward…he demanded our absolute attention, and he would conduct class his way and his way only, as evidenced by how he addressed us…that first roll call would be the last we would hear of our actual names in his class…from that point on, we were a

…he would only refer to us (and likewise we could only refer to ourselves) by the number on our typewriter…for instance, I had the 15th typewriter in class, so I was to be known as

…WELL ACTUALLY, Brother made an exception for me…just like almost every teacher and coach throughout my young life, he stumbled over the pronunciation of

…so he told me to stand and say it aloud…then he announced That’s a

name…You’re Boy with the Pretty Name…Who are you?…well, I knew what he wanted me to say, but I preferred to be like the 14 students before me, so I answered according to my typewriter number, saying

Brother…he became agitated…then he reiterated sternly Who are you?…uneasy, I replied

Brother…there was some giggling from my classmates, to which he ended immediately…then he asked for the last time Who are you?…so I unwillingly concluded

 Brother…and that’s the way it would be for both Typing 1 and 2…every time I spoke in class, I had to answer his question of Who are you? with

Brother…yeah as you could imagine, walking the

and hearing Hey, what’s up

really sucked…but honestly, it only lasted for a short time from students…I think the guys realized it wasn’t very funny…anyway, the next interesting tidbit about this brother, my typing teacher, was he personally called every student on their

for all 4 years…think about it…Typing was a required class…there were approximately 800 kids enrolled during the school year…that was 800 calls a year, for decades…and this was the gist of my freshman year birthday call…I knew it was coming, so I waited by the phone all day…silly, huh?…anyhow, the

rang, and I picked up immediately…Brother asked #15 Boy, Boy with-…I jumped in nervously Yes it is, #15 Boy, Boy with the Pretty Name, Brother…then he wished me a happy birthday and asked if I had anything special going on…I answered as if I was reading off some itinerary sheet…Well, my mom is making me my favorite

…I love to put

on it…then my cousins are coming over for presents and cake and my mom made me my favorite

and my dad got a video for later and-…I babbled on and on like a

…then when I finally stopped, he said Well that sounds like a great day…get back to your family and enjoy yourself…I ended with Thank you Brother!…so that wasn’t too bad…I mean, even though he was some old guy who wasn’t a relative or friend and made me call myself

at least he wished me a happy birthday, right?…Uhhh, hold on there…that was February…let’s fast forward to June, when my required time with him was coming to an end…occasionally he would disappear to the back of the classroom where there were storage cabinets, and he would return with photocopied articles like this

no kiddin’…I’ll never forget that title…it was about a man’s left

…I was able to find it online all these years later…so along with repeatedly typing a particular sentence for speed, if there was extra time in class, we would practice typing an article without looking at the keys…WELL on this unfortunate day, Brother wandered to the back of the classroom but didn’t return with photocopied articles…instead, he ended up right behind me and put his

on my shoulders…then he leaned down closer to me and quietly said Very good

keep typing…the next thing I felt was a long boney finger against my right cheek…I could see it from the corner of my eye…a white wrinkled pointer with need for grooming was making slow gentle

against my skin…I kept typing, didn’t say anything and didn’t move my head…it only lasted for a few seconds…the

rang, and we were dismissed…I didn’t look back…besides the obvious, here’s the problem with that situation…I allowed it…I’ll explain…behind this

of what I wanted, or rather needed people to see, I was an utter

of emotional and physical insecurities…plus I had a

load of undiagnosed OCD fears and rituals…yeah, it was a real

act to keep my

from sliding off the

and I was willing to keep all the truths to myself about bullying and my typing teacher and the anxiety from horribly embarrassing mandatory gym class showers around a few metal

that had multiple

…there was no hiding the fact that my man gland looked like this

while everyone else’s looked like this

…and I was also willing to hold firm the secret about my obsessive

and need to check the

of every door in the house and the knobs of the gas

over and over and over again to make sure I was germ free and my family was safe…and just a point of note, that was only the tip of the

when it came to my mental disorder that no one knew, or at least ever talked about…I could have kept a shrink busy for years…BUT like I’m alluding…even though the right thing to do would’ve been to be forthcoming about everything, I absolutely didn’t want anyone to know the altar boy, the

student…the athlete with a shelf full of

(not the participation kind) was all

up…I was on

with self esteem and confidence…that’s why I let Brother touch my cheek…my awesome badass

who’s also a

said she wouldn’t just Callemonit…she would bury an elbow in his eye…and I believe her…BUT I simply couldn’t…I needed people to like me…because I hated me…that’s why

is so important for the world…especially at this time…imagine, if our

becomes

to feel free to talk about anything and everything under the

…to speak up when something goes against our rights, values, beliefs, and morals…and likewise, people in our lives proclaim that we are always

to discuss things that bother and concern us, weigh heavy on our

and minds…in our marriage and family, when parenting, in friendships, at our jobs, when dating, out in public…heck, with the whole

…life would be happier, more fulfilling as a result of this honest communication…and if there’s a young boy out there who’s scared and confused like I was back in 1982, then he’ll feel comfortable about seeking help…this is me now

…join the movement…make Callemonit a part of your life!

If you’ve enjoyed this post or just have something to say…maybe even about your own experiences…please do so in the comment box…and share on social media if you believe a Callemonit Lifestyle can make a difference…help spread the message.  Thanks, Mark

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2 Comments

  1. Wow, Mark. That was horrible what happened to you in high school. Keep looking forward. Hold your head high. God bless you.

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