Way back in the Dark Ages of Middle School (or did we call it Junior High? I don't remember any more), they had this 'program' for over-eager students (you know the type - always finishing their homework early, always asking for more work because they get bored easily, always finishing tests half an hour before their peers, always being bullied by the other students because they use big words during normal conversation) -- called 'TAG', which stands for "Talented And Gifted" but let's just keep that under our hats, shall we? Because if there is one thing that invites bullying, it's being part of a group of people known around the school as eggheads, nerds, geeks, or whatever it was they called us back then.
[I think it was 'nerds'. Didn't it come from the TV show "Happy Days"?]
Yeah, we weren't proud of our nerd status back then. Once you were known as a nerd, especially if you were a guy, you could count on at least a dozen big athletic types to give you 'friendly' arm punches (or worse) every day. Unless you knew how to all the shortcuts to avoid the main hallways between classes.
It didn't help the situation when in the middle of class the teacher would dismiss the TAG kids so that they could go downstairs to their special room next to the cafeteria, and everyone in the classroom could give you "that look" when you got up to go. Especially the big athletic types who would start rubbing their knuckles in anticipation of dishing out some "nerd handshakes" the next time they caught you outside.
Yeah, Middle School was a dream world.
The best part about TAG was hanging out with really smart kids and doing really cool things. Each year, they let us choose a project to work on, something we could use our creativity on. We could do art, or music, or math, or games, or anything we liked, so long as it was involved with learning.
My best friend, Wayne, was a TAG kid. He was much smarter than me. Mathematical. Musical. For his TAG project (we all got to pick fun projects to work on), he decided to write a musical score. He played the oboe, which was the weirdest instrument in the world because it was kind of like a clarinet, but different. You had to be really smart to play an oboe. Or really weird. Or both. Wayne was both. He and I were always laughing and making jokes. He always called me 'Oscar', as in "Oscar Mayer Hot Dogs". In fact, he called me 'Oscar' so much that I think he forgot my real name.
[Now that I think about it, I don't think he ever called me by my real name in 8th grade. So he was smart and weird and very forgetful. But he was a great friend. Except that he thought computer nerds were really weird.]
My other best friend was a girl named Joy. She was very smart and very cute and very funny, with large bushy hair and a great smile. She and Wayne and I hung out a lot because we liked to laugh and joke around, and because we were all in TAG, too. I can't remember what project she decided on, but since she was very musical, too, it was probably something similar.
I was torn between two projects that year: one was creating a stop-motion film with an 8-millimeter camera; the other was learning BASIC programming. There were several other kids interested in the movie-making project. As I recall, I was the only one interested in learning how to program computers. Oh! What to do? What to do?
It was one of those little choices you make early in your life that has a major effect on the path of your career. Since I didn't become a movie director, you can probably guess which project I chose.
(Although I did later dabble in creating stop-motion pictures ... but that's another story.)
Back in those days, middle schools couldn't afford real computers because those things were huge monstrosities that filled entire rooms (or at least a very large closet). Instead, we had what was known as a "remote terminal", a glorified tele-typewriter connected to a real computer via a telephone line. It sat against the wall near the door and chattered happily while printing out reams of text across the yellow paper roll. Or while punching confetti holes in the paper tape which stored the computer programs.
Naturally, the TAG teacher didn't have time to spend teaching me about programming; in fact, she was the one who provided the movie camera, so she was going to be busy helping the other kids shoot their movie. And the school didn't have any other teacher who also just happened to be a computer programming expert. Most programmers were already working at big companies like IBM or GE, or for government establishments like NASA or the IRS. Any sane teacher with programming skills would've jumped ship the moment they could, and started earning big bucks rather than trying to teach idiot children how to count on their toes.
So for my project, the TAG teacher found a High School student (I think it was Charles Webb, whom some of you might remember) to come over once or twice a week to teach me. He brought over the BASIC book (the classic text by James S. Coan) and we went through it chapter by chapter until I managed to figure out what I was doing. And he taught me how to program games and math problems and ...
... it was so much FUN!
For the first time in my life, I felt in control. I had written programs that solved problems, that played games, that manipulated data. I had learned that it was actually possible to design a sequence of steps which allowed a machine to accomplish a useful objective. And if you did a good job of it, you could do amazing things! You could simulate a flight to the moon! Or lob a cannonball to its target! Or even play chess!
It was an amazing feeling of power. Of confidence. Of being able to create something that actually worked. It was a mental and emotional high that I had never experienced before. And I was all the more eager to experience again and again and again.
I would never forget those heady days of exploration and discovery. They would help determine the friends I would make and the activities I would participate in throughout my high school and college careers. They would shape and mold my goals and expectations as I decided what to do with my life.
--
In the end, it was a good thing that I didn't decide to go with the movie-making group. After all that work filming (remember that this was in the days when they used real film, and you didn't get to see the results until after you were done and had sent it out to be processed and then received your developed footage), they discovered that they had neglected to use the special close-up macro lens attachment, so the entire movie was out of focus. I felt very bad for them.
--
The memory and joy of learning BASIC was so strong that, years later, I found a copy of the book I learned it from, and bought it. Silly, I know, but I have many fond memories of those days, and always feel a shadow of that joy when re-reading that book now that I am old and gray-haired.
[I think it was 'nerds'. Didn't it come from the TV show "Happy Days"?]
Yeah, we weren't proud of our nerd status back then. Once you were known as a nerd, especially if you were a guy, you could count on at least a dozen big athletic types to give you 'friendly' arm punches (or worse) every day. Unless you knew how to all the shortcuts to avoid the main hallways between classes.
It didn't help the situation when in the middle of class the teacher would dismiss the TAG kids so that they could go downstairs to their special room next to the cafeteria, and everyone in the classroom could give you "that look" when you got up to go. Especially the big athletic types who would start rubbing their knuckles in anticipation of dishing out some "nerd handshakes" the next time they caught you outside.
Yeah, Middle School was a dream world.
The best part about TAG was hanging out with really smart kids and doing really cool things. Each year, they let us choose a project to work on, something we could use our creativity on. We could do art, or music, or math, or games, or anything we liked, so long as it was involved with learning.
My best friend, Wayne, was a TAG kid. He was much smarter than me. Mathematical. Musical. For his TAG project (we all got to pick fun projects to work on), he decided to write a musical score. He played the oboe, which was the weirdest instrument in the world because it was kind of like a clarinet, but different. You had to be really smart to play an oboe. Or really weird. Or both. Wayne was both. He and I were always laughing and making jokes. He always called me 'Oscar', as in "Oscar Mayer Hot Dogs". In fact, he called me 'Oscar' so much that I think he forgot my real name.
[Now that I think about it, I don't think he ever called me by my real name in 8th grade. So he was smart and weird and very forgetful. But he was a great friend. Except that he thought computer nerds were really weird.]
My other best friend was a girl named Joy. She was very smart and very cute and very funny, with large bushy hair and a great smile. She and Wayne and I hung out a lot because we liked to laugh and joke around, and because we were all in TAG, too. I can't remember what project she decided on, but since she was very musical, too, it was probably something similar.
I was torn between two projects that year: one was creating a stop-motion film with an 8-millimeter camera; the other was learning BASIC programming. There were several other kids interested in the movie-making project. As I recall, I was the only one interested in learning how to program computers. Oh! What to do? What to do?
It was one of those little choices you make early in your life that has a major effect on the path of your career. Since I didn't become a movie director, you can probably guess which project I chose.
(Although I did later dabble in creating stop-motion pictures ... but that's another story.)
Back in those days, middle schools couldn't afford real computers because those things were huge monstrosities that filled entire rooms (or at least a very large closet). Instead, we had what was known as a "remote terminal", a glorified tele-typewriter connected to a real computer via a telephone line. It sat against the wall near the door and chattered happily while printing out reams of text across the yellow paper roll. Or while punching confetti holes in the paper tape which stored the computer programs.
Naturally, the TAG teacher didn't have time to spend teaching me about programming; in fact, she was the one who provided the movie camera, so she was going to be busy helping the other kids shoot their movie. And the school didn't have any other teacher who also just happened to be a computer programming expert. Most programmers were already working at big companies like IBM or GE, or for government establishments like NASA or the IRS. Any sane teacher with programming skills would've jumped ship the moment they could, and started earning big bucks rather than trying to teach idiot children how to count on their toes.
So for my project, the TAG teacher found a High School student (I think it was Charles Webb, whom some of you might remember) to come over once or twice a week to teach me. He brought over the BASIC book (the classic text by James S. Coan) and we went through it chapter by chapter until I managed to figure out what I was doing. And he taught me how to program games and math problems and ...
... it was so much FUN!
For the first time in my life, I felt in control. I had written programs that solved problems, that played games, that manipulated data. I had learned that it was actually possible to design a sequence of steps which allowed a machine to accomplish a useful objective. And if you did a good job of it, you could do amazing things! You could simulate a flight to the moon! Or lob a cannonball to its target! Or even play chess!
It was an amazing feeling of power. Of confidence. Of being able to create something that actually worked. It was a mental and emotional high that I had never experienced before. And I was all the more eager to experience again and again and again.
I would never forget those heady days of exploration and discovery. They would help determine the friends I would make and the activities I would participate in throughout my high school and college careers. They would shape and mold my goals and expectations as I decided what to do with my life.
--
In the end, it was a good thing that I didn't decide to go with the movie-making group. After all that work filming (remember that this was in the days when they used real film, and you didn't get to see the results until after you were done and had sent it out to be processed and then received your developed footage), they discovered that they had neglected to use the special close-up macro lens attachment, so the entire movie was out of focus. I felt very bad for them.
--
The memory and joy of learning BASIC was so strong that, years later, I found a copy of the book I learned it from, and bought it. Silly, I know, but I have many fond memories of those days, and always feel a shadow of that joy when re-reading that book now that I am old and gray-haired.
3 comments:
What parents never know about their kids--and how fun it is to read about it years later.
It was middle school. And we didn't have that much fun in TAG. No special projects. All I recall from the basement TAG room was playing a stupid conversation game with the computer, wishing I could play the piano that was in the room, doing some calligraphy with fountain pens, and some silly 1970's values clarifications stuff. But hey, it got me out of class.
Lucky for me, girl nerds didn't get bullied like boy nerds. There was some subtle stuff from the popular crowd but definitely nothing physical. And I was happily in my own world enough not to notice anyway.
Come to think of it, I don't recall making any special friends in my TAG group either. And definitely no high school mentors. Sounds like you had a much better experience.
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