A rubber chicken walks into the gym ...
Can a comedic prop end the legacy of humiliation in high school gym class?
In the never-ending quest to divide people into two distinct groups, allow me to add another category: those who enjoyed gym class in high school, and those who did not.
I belong to the group that did not. My reasons are fairly extensive: being generally lousy at sports, getting hit in the head during dodge ball, Grade 9 morning gym class inspection when we had to stand at attention and snap our jock straps. There was also an issue involving the parallel bars that we need not get into here.
According to a recent academic study, I have plenty of company.
Memories of gym class tend to produce “vivid and emotionally charged memories of events that had transpired many years, even decades earlier,” says a recently study by researchers from Iowa State University in Ames. And just like the wrong kind of running shoe, humiliations on the parquet floor can leave a permanent mark.
The survey asked Americans aged 18 to 45 to share their recollections of gym class. The resulting deluge of sharp and divisive emotional reactions should resonate with Canadian gym class survivors as well: “being picked last in dodge ball,” “hit very hard with the [dodge]ball,” “being horrible in basketball,” “having to be weighed in class” and “when we had to run a mile.”
On the other side of the ledger, many jocks seemed to relish the opportunity to show off their stuff, such as “[I] won many awards and made many school records.”
While all reminiscences of high school tend toward polarization, there is something uniquely memorable about gym. No other class puts the performance of all its students on such continuous display. Unlike English or math class, when you fail in gym class — can’t shoot a basket, can’t do a somersault — everyone knows it. And experiences like that are unforgettable.
The Iowa study also raises concern that people with the strongest negative memories of gym class, and in particular those who were repeatedly picked last for teams, are more likely to be sedentary and obese as adults. Unpleasant experiences probably also explain why there’s such a big drop-off in gym enrolment after Grade 9, as only one phys-ed credit is required to graduate high school in Ontario.
Steve Peng is trying hard to change these memories of high school gym for the better. A phys-ed teacher in the Waterloo Region District School Board for 27 years, Peng is currently department head at Grand River Collegiate. He recently headed up a board-wide revamp of the phys-ed marking scheme that’s now being implemented for the first time this year.
“We’re trying to make phys-ed more palatable for kids who may be less ‘sporty,’” he says, admitting that the old system “was discouraging a lot of kids. Now we want to make it fun for everyone.”
Gym class was once about turning students into athletes. That’s changing, as students can now take weight training and other fitness-oriented activities in addition to traditional sports. This year’s new marking system continues the evolution toward producing healthy adults.
“It used to be if you couldn’t shoot a basket, you’d get a bad mark in basketball,” says Peng. “Now we don’t care how many layups you can do. The question is whether you actively participate and work hard. The best athletes won’t always get the best marks anymore.”
Gym students at Waterloo Region District School Board high schools are now marked on how hard they sweat and whether they’re good teammates and leaders. Actual skill is a very small component of the overall mark.
Peng also looks for inventive ways to ensure all students, regardless of ability, are fully engaged in all activities. “The first thing I did when I came to Grand River was to buy 10 rubber chickens,” he recounts. He attaches these comedic props to basketballs, footballs etc., instantly lowering all players’ skill level. “Now the star of the basketball team can’t shoot or dribble. It changes the game completely so everyone can participate.”
As for dodge ball — that staple of gym class in which teenage boys are encouraged to throw balls at each other’s heads, and has a well-deserved reputation as “Lord of the Flies” in shorts and sneakers — Peng says the old, hard balls of his youth have been replaced with squishy foam projectiles that no longer hurt. “The kids love it,” he says. “They ask for it every time.”
For anyone who thinks school should reward skill rather than effort or enjoyment, all this might seem rather odd. If you can’t answer a math question, you shouldn’t get marks for how many times you sharpened your pencil, or slapped other students on the back. Quite true.
But gym class, as we’ve already seen, is very different from other subjects. And how kids feel about their own fitness can have big health implications later in life. Peng’s work to make gym class more fun and less fraught seems both welcome and necessary.
The real test of success, however, will come many years down the road when today’s students become middle-aged adults. Will their “vivid and emotionallycharged memories” of gym class be of various humiliations and agonies? Or will they remember the rubber chickens?
Peter Shawn Taylor is a contributing editor at Maclean’s magazine. He lives in Waterloo.