Tetherball: How I had my first brush with Socialism.

by Angela K. Durden

Sixth Grade. East Point, Georgia. Church Street Elementary. The year was...well, never mind. Suffice it to say, me and Socialism have never gotten along. In one way or another since then, I've fought against it with vigor. Here's the story of my first brush with it. 

This is a picture of kids playing tetherball
somewhere in 1973 Texas. [Source: Wiki Commons]

Miss Chapman introduces the class to this new sport called tetherball. A ball on a rope is attached to a pole. Two people smack the ball in opposing directions, each attempting to wrap the rope around the pole until there is no more rope left. That person is then declared the winner of that match. 

Miss Chapman tells us that whoever wins the match will play until he loses. Simple enough. Sounded fair. Everybody agreed it was an awesome concept. One-on-one play. Mano y mano. 

You will have to read Twinkle, a memoir to discover why I was always the new girl in class; this year was no different. It had been a tougher than normal year at home. 5th Grade had been most horrendous. We had moved yet again. And Mother was in the process of leaving forever her abusive second husband for about the gabillionth time only to return two days later because she missed him so very much. Unneeded drama was nonstop. I was mad. 

Little wonder I took joy where I could find it. 

So there I am. Taking joy waiting my turn to test myself one-to-one against an individual. I step up and within just a few smacks of the ball, I had won the match. Yay! Bring on the next contestant. 

I won again. So far, the record was three wins in a row. Up steps the next and I win again making me and a boy tied for first place in consecutive wins.

So far, so good. I continue to beat the pants off everybody that stepped up. I was fierce but ladylike. That is, I hit that ball like a gladiator, but my dress never raised enough to show my panties. After beating well over half the class, I was vaguely aware applause had stopped. Everything around me got still as I won yet again and our teacher stepped toward me. 

Miss Chapman, a wonderful teacher I dearly loved, then spoke. "Angela, you've won enough. It's time to let somebody else win." My fellow students nodded their heads in agreement. I looked from them to the teacher. 

And thus began my first brush with Socialism. 

My response was swift. Horrified and more than a little bit disappointed, I yelled, "You want me to lose on purpose?" 

Miss Chapman, bless her heart, did not want that. But she had a group of malcontents getting ready to riot because it just wasn't fair that Angela was winning so much. If Angela could simply cede the throne her problem would be solved and everybody else could have a turn. Make it all equal. Nobody gets hurt.   

Now furious, I said, "Everybody is playing! You said winner plays until they lose. I can't help it they don't know how to play the game. Let them beat me. You want me to quit?"

I was beyond furious. She saw this conversation was not going to get better and she pretty much ordered me to step away from the pole. Which I did, but not happily, and I refused to ever play that game with them again.