Dumbest Joke I Ever Told

That 8th grade science teacher had a dog. I made a joke about having sex with it. It was the first, but surprisingly not the last, time I’ve made a joke about bestiality that was seen as …. somewhat inappropriate. It destroyed me socially.

It spread from the couple cadets who heard it and … I made the mistake of thinking if I made light of it and joked further it would go away. It didn’t go away. The myth grew as I dug my grave deeper and deeper. It seemed jokes about me having sex with dogs were everywhere. It was awful.

For example, one night both Micah and Lima Companies were having a joint meeting in the common room we shared. The Tactical Officer’s freaking dog comes trotting into the room and I started sweating, knowing the jokes would come … and, inevitably someone shouted Captain Musolff better keep his dog away from me. I was mortified.

After 8th grade my parents “rewarded” me with a chance at public school because I’d performed so well at Howe. When I returned three years later I was waiting in line for my first haircut during the first couple days of the school year when someone asked me my name. I told them and they responded, “Hey – I’ve heard of you! Didn’t you have sex with a goat?”

Eric Colville: THE Hero In Education

Eric Colville recently died. One of the great regrets of my life is never writing him that letter telling him what an incredible teacher and influence in my life he was.

Major Colville was a major in Her Majesty’s army decades before I was born and taught both Latin and English at Howe Military School.

For those of you who were never in his class, I am sorry. For those of you so close that you attended Howe and were so far that you did not get to be in his class(es) … I am deeply, truly sorry.

I can still remember the first day of Latin … “Latin is not a dead language” he began in his thick British accent.

His sense of humor, his dignity, the tears that would well up in his eyes for the students he loved and the compassionate smile he had even for those he couldn’t stand … will always be remembered.

An English Teacher Who Writes

He wrote his science-fiction stories in a spiral notebook. I read a bit of his work. I wasn’t very impressed – which means a lot because at 12-13 years I was pretty much the literary expert in lower school (5th-8th grade).

But, at least he wrote. I mean, most English teachers, though cooler than teachers of other subjects, tend to be … disappointing. Unless they’re not disappointing. Then they tend to be great.

We got to write short stories for assignments. He told me mine were too violent, too sexual, and other nonsense. My response was, “No one says Stephen King is too sexual or too violent.”

This idiot’s response? “You’re not Stephen King,” of course. What a loser.

Some schools seem to have either outstanding teachers or losers but nothing really in between. Howe didn’t suffer loser-teachers very long. If the cadets didn’t make them miserable enough to quit, I think they were simply asked to leave. I did not, of course, have every single teacher there but I was blessed with what seemed more than my fair share of outstanding teachers.

This guy was more often than not, friendly and encouraging. He wasn’t great, but he wasn’t bad … which … is a far, far better thing than to have even a great teacher in a public school. A teacher that does no harm … is a good teacher.

At least he didn’t … instill bad or unhealthy academic or mental habits. He just didn’t help me aspire to greatness. He didn’t try to hinder or stop me, though – and that’s the important thing. Public schools harm, hinder, and stop. They sabotage. Public school teachers are intellectual terrorists.

I think I first read “Harrison Bergeron” at Howe. Public schools are Harrison Bergeron.

Companies/Houses/Dorms

When I attended Howe during my high school years there were three companies divided into three dorms:

• Bravo
• Delta
• Echo

Bravo and Charlie were empty. Howe still hadn’t recovered from the unpopularity of Vietnam – or so I’m told that was the reason the student body was so small.

The main reason I instantly loved the Harry Potter movies and, as a result, the books is the division of Hogwarts into houses. Each house has its own personality and tradition. Same with the companies of the battalion that is the Howe Military School student body.

You live with these guys (and now, girls), compete against other companies, and develop deep friendships. If not friendships then at least familial relationships.

And, like Hogwarts, Howe is very old. Not Oxford-old, mind you, but old. It has a rich and interesting history. There are many traditions that are filled with heroes and ghosts.

Sadly, based on my last couple visits, I don’t think the cadets eat together anymore. It used to be like in Harry Potter. You always sat with your house/company. It served to replace the family meals you had or, if you didn’t have family meals back home … it gave you the routine and comfort of meals with your Howe family.

Echo Company

I began my senior year as a private in rank. This was highly unusual for any senior, let alone someone with as good of a record as I did in conduct and academics, among other areas.

My junior year I turned in my stripes because I was, you see, a rebel – and far too cool to be a willing participant in this whole “military thing.”

I quickly realized being a private kind of sucked, so after the first grading period (and, from what I heard, a good deal of debate about whether I should be promoted or not because I might pull a Johnny Rotten at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame kind of “screw you” refusal deal) I was promoted to lieutenant and transferred out of Delta Company to lead a platoon in Echo Company.

The platoon rejoiced. I was well-known as a laid back guy. Some student leaders were real pricks in one way or another for some reason or another. I also rejoiced because as I’ve mentioned earlier, Delta was not my first pick. It’s like being Harry Potter and having the Sorting Hat tell you Slytherin is where you belong.

Why I Believe In School Uniforms

Besides my jump from straight-F to straight-A student the most significant thing I tell people about what makes Howe Military School and its students different is the uniform(s).

In public school, judgments are made based largely on clothes. You are placed in your caste (or robbed) based on your clothes. Also, deep revealing things like your taste in music place you in certain social groups and cliques. Your sports team. Your neighborhood. Your family.

At Howe, you are judged solely on your merits. How clean & orderly your room is (or isn’t). Your grades. How you carry yourself. How you treat others.

It is impossible to judge your fellow students on their family or socio-economic class because you have no clue about those things or what neighborhood they’re from. You have common goals whether you’re on a sports team together or not. And you are most certainly not judged by your clothes because everyone wears the same outfit.

It’s nice. You have to get to know someone before you decide they’re scum or they’re beneath you.

8th Grade Science Class

I have quite a few memories of this class and the teacher. There’s a certain movie I love with a lead character who shares this teacher’s surname. It always makes me think of him. He would frequently invite students up to his apartment above the old Quartermaster building (which no longer exists) and hang out. Many teachers – or Masters as we called them – lived on campus or nearby so we had easy access to them as teachers, mentors, friends, a place to vent, as father figures, etc.

He was an Alice Cooper fan and since I was a fairly new fan myself at the ripe age of 12 or 13, he recorded his copy of Killer onto a cassette for me.  He wouldn’t write down the song titles for me though which sucked. He might have recorded School’s Out for me as well. I had to guess what the names of all these songs were.

I can remember learning about electricity and molecules and atoms and such.

He ran off with one of the other teachers. Totally scandalous for we students. They were both single as far as I knew, it was just … ew … they were our teachers … it’s like the day you find out your parents have sex.

The Howe Herald

The Howe Herald is the student newspaper at Howe Military School. Possibly the only arena I didn’t succeed in at Howe was the student paper. I failed Journalism class at public school but at least I got an article published in the school paper. At Howe I wasn’t even allowed in the school paper office.

Note: I have made my living as a writer for the last twenty years.

I would have loved to have published an “underground” paper on campus. It would have been the perfect environment and absolutely glorious. Sadly, I didn’t have a typewriter – there may have been one in the library but I don’t remember. There may have been a copy machine there, too, but I don’t recall. I couldn’t even cut and paste with an Xacto knife and glue stick … the surrounding small (and I mean SMALL) town of Howe didn’t even have a copy machine in a store.

Now, of course, any student could use MicroSoft Office and visit a Kinko’s in Sturgis on the weekend to copy off a couple dozen issues of, let’s call it The Howe … Underground Paper … (I’m a “Creative,” as you can tell) and distribute it around campus to wreak havoc amongst the student body, staff, and faculty.

It would probably look better than The Howe Herald which hurts my eyes when I see it. At least it’s online now! That in itself is a huge technological leap forward for Howe Military School. What would really rock is if the news and pictures were updated on the site more often. Even weekly would be great.

Sex On Campus

Quite honestly, I think there was none.

There was a small handful of female day students and one afternoon I saw my company (Delta) commander coming out of the dorm with the hottest of them but … I, of course, don’t know what happened or why they were there.

There was no girls’ dorm when I attended Howe.

There was, though, the perpetual hope that one would meet some sex-starved farmer’s daughter at a moment when you had enough time for such a rendevouz.

Interesting thing … there was always this rumor that if a cadet was caught masturbating – which no real man does, of course - he would have to wear his white gloves the following day so everyone would know he was a pervert and should probably be locked up. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure it’s a safe bet to say sex of the solo variety is fairly common now and was then.

Grades

One of the main selling points I always tell people about Howe Military School is the difference it made in my academic life. In public school hell, where I spent a nightmarish two years during 9th and 10th grade, I was lucky if I went a couple days without being bullied and equally happy if I got a D which meant I’d managed to pass a class.

At Howe Military School, however, despite loyalty to companies/dorms, ranks, and even a certain number of cliques, no one got bullied.

Also, if I got a B in a class, I was furious. I went straight from flunking out of school to being in the National Honor Society winning several academic awards and getting accepted at the University of Michigan.

What more do you need to know about Howe? Well, fear not, I’ll continue to tell you.

Smoking in the Armory

Not quite “smokin’ in the boys’ room,” but still a fond memory.

For a brief time I held the glorious position of “Armory Sergeant” in Delta Company. It was one of many things I tried with the sole purpose of getting out of parade on Saturday and Sunday mornings. For a brief time, if you were working the armory – issuing and receiving rifles before and after parades – you stayed in the armory during the parade. That meant you could study, stare at the wall, whatever … as long as it meant you weren’t standing out in the blazing sun or freezing wind for two hours.

That didn’t last for long.

I can’t remember the cadet’s name that I worked in the armory with but I remember he was very cool and fun. When we were actually doing our job, we’d try to salvage as many good parts as we could to get as many complete rifles as we could. We’d also clean them occasionally.

I can’t remember why but sometimes we’d be down in the armory (in the basement) at night. Perhaps there was a dedicated cleaning time and that’s where we had to be. Cool thing about that was one of us could then sneak out the basement door, up the steps, and – if we could make it off campus un-seen – make it to the gas station and buy cigars.

Then we’d sit in the armory and smoke cigars feeling very cool while most other Delta cadets were upstairs cleaning and getting yelled at by the officers.