Dēda

Memories of a Monitor in Coach Peterson's PE Class

It's strange how some small bit of news can jog your memory about something that happened more than fifty years ago. It was in the paper today that the old Middleton Junior High School building was being torn down. I was suddenly reminded how I had been a student there back in the 1950s and what happened when I was a PE monitor with Matt Lancaster. Strange, when you look back, how things like that can change your life.

I can still remember that long ago September and the beginning of the fall semester. It was a time when coaches were like God. Unlike today, in those days, you did whatever a coach wanted you to do, no questions asked. Thinking back, I am sure that we were more like slaves to the coach than we ever liked to admit. I'm sure that if I told the kids growing up today how it was in those days they would think that I was making it all up.

What made that particular school year unusual was the fact that the local school board had just passed some new rules giving coaches very wide latitude in how they conducted their PE classes and how they disciplined students. How the coach chose to interpret those new rules was what we were to find out that year.

I was fifteen that year and had just starting the ninth grade. This was the first day for my best friend, Matt Lancaster, and me to serve as monitors for Coach Peterson in his sixth period gym class. After class, we were going to remain in the gym for athletics since both of us would be playing football during that year. However, in the past this had been with the junior high team. This was going to be our first year to workout with the 'varsity', as the high school team was called. Coach Peterson was also new at Middleton. This was the first year for him to coach football in our school district although we understood that he had been coaching for about ten years in other schools. Rumor had it at the time that he was single and had come to Middleton to be closer to his aging parents.

The sixth period, where we would now be monitors, consisted of thirteen and fourteen year-old boys in the seventh and eighth grades. For many of these younger boys, this was their first experience with organized athletics and certainly their first where they were expected to change clothes, exercise, shower, dress, and get to their next class, all within the space of an hour. As Matt and I understood it from guys who had been monitors in other years before us, we would be assisting the coach with the athletic equipment and passing out and collecting towels plus whatever else the coach wanted us to do during the class. Since Coach Peterson was new to the school district, we had not had an opportunity to meet with him prior to this first class to find out what he actually considered our duties to be.

Although Matt and I were monitors, we were dressed in our gym clothes just like the younger boys in the class. Both of us wore white tee shirts, blue gym shorts with a gold stripe down the side (the school colors), and low-cut tennis shoes with white athletic socks. Underneath we both wore jocks but no underwear as was the custom in those days.

I remember that year I stood 5ft. 9in. [1.75 m] tall and weighed about 165 lbs. [75 kg] while Matt was slightly taller at 5ft. 10in. [1.80 m] and probably outweighed me by five pounds [2½ kg]. Both of us had dark brown hair that was cut short like most boys in that era but while mine was straight, Matt's was somewhat on the curly side. Being football players, we were in good shape having lifted weights and run a lot during the summer to keep in shape for football. Our bodies were tight and muscular for fifteen year-olds. Secretly, we were both proud of our developing six-packs and our muscular arms and chests. We knew that we were 'jocks' and quietly proud of it.

I recall that we stopped talking among ourselves when we looked up to see the new coach coming out of his office and onto the gym floor. As he approached us, it was apparent that Coach Peterson was in his late thirties and still had a trim athletic body. Later we would learn that he had been working as a school coach ever since it had become apparent at age twenty-four that he would not have a career as a professional athlete. He was six feet [1.85 m] tall and weighed 190 lbs. [85 kg]. Like most coaches, he wore a polo shirt and knee length shorts. The shirt was gold while the shorts were dark blue marking him in the Middleton school colors. While basically still in good shape for a man of his age, there were now traces of gray in the hair under his blue ball-cap.

He walked over to where we were standing waiting for the sixth period class and said: "Lancaster, Smith, glad to have you two with me as monitors this semester. I've heard good things about you both. I think that we will work well together. You may not be aware of it but the school board has passed some new rules that will affect P.E. classes. We can go into more detail on that and your duties another time. I need you guys to do something special for me today."

"What's that, coach?" said Matt quizzically.

"The school district has decided that we need to have to do a few classes on sex education with the junior high kids. It's been decided that gym class would be the best place to conduct these sessions since it's one of the few classes where the class is composed only of boys or girls. As a result, I'm doing a series on sex education for the first few class sessions," the coach said. "Since you are both older than the boys in this class, I need you guys to help me by being examples to illustrate how these boys are going to change as they go through or continue to go through puberty over the next couple of years. Are you guys OK with helping me with this?"

Matt and I looked at each other shyly. Then both of us swallowed hard before Matt responded. "Sure, coach. Anything that we can do to help." What the coach did not know was that both of us didn't want to get into trouble with our new coach on our first day working for him and would have done almost anything that he wanted us to do just to avoid getting on his bad side. After all, we were both on the football team that he was going to coach. We knew that, as the coach, he called the shots and that he could make life difficult for us if we did something to displease him. Still, we wondered just what 'helping' him with a sex education class meant.

The thirteen and fourteen year old boys that comprised Coach Peterson's fifth period were now laughing, giggling, and talking amongst themselves as they began to come from the locker room in their own white tee shirts, blue shorts, and white tennis shoes and socks. Soon the last stragglers had gathered at the side of the gym waiting for the coach to blow his whistle and call the class to order. Looking at his watch, Coach Peterson gave a sharp blast on his whistle and the twenty-four boys in the class ceased talking and looked at him waiting for his instructions about what they would do this period.

In his best command voice, the coach barked at the class: "Gather around me here on this side of the gym. Everybody take a seat on the floor. I want to explain some things to you. twenty-four nervous boys hurried to get situated on the floor at his feet. Most crossed their legs and looked up quizzically at the coach. "OK, now, listen up. The school district has adopted some new rules for this school year. Among other things, they have given coaches like me permission to be more creative with the way that we conduct our PE classes. They have also decided to include a few sessions on sex education for the seventh and eighth grade classes. The decision has been made here at Middleton to have these here in the gym classes where it is either all male or all female. Today, rather than have a regular physical education class, I will be talking to you about sex education." Coach Peterson paused looking around at the assembled faces. At first there was a sort of stunned silence and then the sound of the boys shifting around on the floor accompanied by some soft, nervous giggling. Both Matt and I stood off to one side waiting to see what happened next.

"You boys are going through puberty right now," the coach continued. "Each of you is experiencing changes in your bodies at various speeds. Some of you most likely have already experienced some of these changes while others of you have not. Some of you have started to sprout hair in places that were bare as recently as last year. Some of you are finding that your voices are changing and that you are going to have to consider shaving at least your upper lip. Don't worry, these changes come to everyone. They just don't all come at the same time."

Turning toward us, the coach called out: "Smith, Lancaster, come over here."

Slowly the two of us walked over and stood beside the coach unsure of what might happen next. Both of us were nervous and had started to sweat a little in anticipation of what the coach might have in mind for us.

"These two older boys are Jim Smith and Matt Lancaster. They are my ninth grade monitors for this class. Both are also on the football team and spend a lot of time in athletics. Obviously, they are probably a year older then any one of you seventh and eighth graders and are further along in their physical development toward adulthood. Jim and Matt, how about you pulling off your tee shirts for a minute so that these younger boys can better see how much upper body muscle you have put on working out with the football team."

Neither of us liked where this was going, but Peterson was the coach and there was no thought in those days of not doing what a coach told you to do. Whatever we were thinking, we both pulled our tee shirts over our heads and stood there stripped to the waist waiting to see what the coach would do next while twenty-four pairs of wide, strange eyes looked at us like we were prize cattle at the state fair.

"Alright class, see how much both Jim and Matt have developed their chest and arm muscles by working out with weights," said Coach Peterson as he began lecturing the class on the advantages of weight training. Words like 'pectoral' and 'bicep; hung in the air as every teenaged eye followed his hands as they pointed at our bodies and then unintentionally caressed them and lingered there as he explained their development to the class.

Neither one of us liked being the object of this lecture but there was nothing that we could do about it. I could feel my nipples contracting as the coach ran his hand over my chest and then it happened. I started to get an erection from all of the touching and feeling of my chest and arms. As I was worrying about the developing tent in my gym shorts, the coach's attention shifted to Matt.

"Now boys, I know that at your age some of you have hair starting to grow around your penis and some don't have any yet," said the coach looking a the class who now fidgeted and tried not to look at each other as he spoke. Looking at Matt he asked, "Lancaster, how old are you? You must be a year older than the boys in this class and further developed then they are at this stage in life."

Matt looked a little red in the face and I could see that he too had a tent in his shorts. He shifted his weight from one foot to another as he nervously replied, "I'm fifteen, coach."

Turning to me, he then said, "Smith, are you the same age as Lancaster?"

"Yes coach, I am," I responded.

"Now I would like for both of you boys to drop your gym shorts and step out of them," said the coach in a calm voice. "Also, please take off your shoes and socks."

This was getting to be more than either Matt or I had bargained for as monitors. We looked shyly at each other and at the twenty-four pairs of eyes seemingly glued to our every move. I could see Matt's hands twitching slightly. Additionally, he had beads of sweat on his forehead and as well as some red blotches on his chest and body. I knew that I was probably reacting the same way. It was the coach who was asking us to drop our shorts. We both figured we had no choice in the matter. I thought that this must be what he meant by helping him "to illustrate how these boys are going to change as they go through or continue to go through puberty over the next couple of years."

Slowly, we both took our shorts by the waist band and hesitantly pushed them down and stepped out of them. Then we reached down and untied our shoes and kicked them off. When we stood up, twenty-four pairs of eyes looked at us with fascination like we were prize cattle at an auction.

Looking at us standing there in nothing but our jocks, Coach Peterson seemed surprised. "I forgot about the athletic supporters. Please take them off as well." He instructed.

Matt and I looked horrified at each other. Surely he didn't want us to stand there naked like a couple of statues while he lectured twenty-four younger kids about how they were going to grow hair 'down there'. We looked back at the coach in stunned silence.

"Surely you don't mind being naked? After all, you guys shower with a dozen other teammates every day during football season," was his reply to our unspoken question.

It was then that we realized that the S.O.B. really did mean it. I swallowed hard and tried to will my cock to go down. Slowly, very slowly, I put my hands inside the waistband of my jock and slipped it down and stepped out of it. My normally three and a half inch [9 cm] penis nestled in a modest bush of brown pubic hair was on full display. Freed at last, my cock stirred but remained almost flaccid with shame. I tried to cover it with my hand, but it was of little use, I couldn't hide it. I was completely mortified as I stood there in front of twenty-four strange, younger kids and a new coach naked with everything that I had on display. Knowing that there was nothing that I could do about it was one of the hardest things that I had ever experienced in life up to that point. My eyes filled with tears and my lip quivered, as I fought to keep from breaking down in front of the whole class. I knew that I would have never have been able to live that down in a million years. I trembled slightly but somehow managed to maintain control and must have even seemed 'cool' to the prying eyes of the other boys in the class.

It was therefore a great surprise when Matt in turn dropped his jock. Suddenly, I realized that he was totally hairless below the neck. From two years of showering together after football practice, I knew that he had had a brown pubic bush that was thicker than mine. His half erect penis and plump ball-sac were on full display. They now seemed all the more prominent by the lack of hair that had once surrounded them. Where there had once been an obvious, if narrow, happy trail and faint traces of chest hair, there was now nothing but smooth tanned skin. Even his legs and underarms showed no sign of the hair that had been plainly visible when school had ended last spring. 'What's happened to Matt? Where's his hair,' was all that I could think about.

Then, at that moment I realized that Matt was even more humiliated than I was. Not only was he on display naked in front of twenty-four younger boys, but they were all seeing him hairless as well and this was in an era when no one ever shaved their pubic hair as far as seventh and eighth graders knew. "Was he a 'queer'?" was probably the question on the minds of more than half of the class.

With no body hair of any kind and a firm muscular body, Matt looked like one of those Greek statues that we had seen in slides in art class last year. At least I had my pubes to let those kids know what an ordinary fifteen year-old looked like. 'What was Matt thinking?' flashed across my mind as I stood there naked and dumbfounded.

Coach Peterson had obviously not bargained for either one of his monitors to be completely hairless below the neck. Even he blushed slightly and then stammered, "I was going to show these younger boys how the two of you have developed a complete set of pubic hair like they will over the next one or two years. I didn't realize that one of you had shaved it all off. Lancaster, would you mind telling the class how you happen to be clean shaven below the neck? It isn't very often that we see a guy with no body hair at your age."

Matt was completely red-faced and even closer to tears than I was. There was a long pause as he struggled to control his actions. When he finally spoke, he stammered: "Coach, I spent the summer on the youth swim team at the YMCA. We had our last meet just last week. Shaving your body is intended to help you swim faster by reducing drag in the water. Since we swim naked, you shave off everything. We both practice and compete naked. Now that the swim team has finished its regular summer season, I'll be concentrating on football and plan to let my body hair grow back."

Coach Peterson turned back to the class and said, "Lancaster here has described for you what it takes to be part of a swim team once you start growing body hair. While not too many men and boys shave their bodies, there are legitimate reasons for doing so as he has indicated."

"OK, Smith and Lancaster. I think that we have seen enough of you for today. Why don't you grab your gear and head on to the showers while I finish with the class," instructed the coach.

It didn't take saying it more than once. Both of us picked up our gym clothes and shoes and holding them in front of us made a bee line for the locker room.

Once inside of the locker room, we both let our emotions take over. Quickly we ran to the showers and turned on the water. Tears ran down our faces that mingled with the water as we looked at each other now trembling visibly.

"Do you think that we can expect this sort of thing every day?" I asked as I pretended to wash my naked body. "I hope Coach Peterson doesn't have any more things in mind for us as monitors. This is not what I signed up for." I remember saying to Matt.

Matt was crying openly into the water from the shower. "I don't know if I can face the whole school knowing that I've been shaving my body. After all, we don't have a swim team here at school and a lot of kids are going to think all sorts of things about me after this."

"Matt, I think that they are going to be more surprised that Coach Peterson made us strip for his class than anything else. The other kids know that you are not a 'queer', if that is what you are thinking. What about me, twenty-four frigging seventh and eighth graders got to see me naked like I was some sort of statue or something."

About then, the rest of the class started coming into the locker room and we stopped talking. A few of the older boys looked up at us as we came out of the showers. At first I thought that they were still curious about our bodies, but then one of them said, "Man, are you guys brave. I couldn't have done that in a million years, coach or no coach." Then others started joining in showing their respect for what we had done. We were not going to be thought of as queer or 'gay' as you would say today. We had done something that had taken courage. Strange how things sometimes work out.

Matt and I did indeed hear about what we had done from our friends at school and even from kids that we didn't or hardly knew. Strangely enough, it solidified our positions as tough jocks among the other students. Even after we graduated from high school and over the years went back for our class reunions, the time we had to strip for the coach always came up in the conversation and how brave we had been.

Even after all of these years, if I had had my own way; I would just as soon not have had to strip in front of twenty-four younger kids. I think Matt probably feels the same way.

The End