What I learned in seventh grade

To quote the great philosopher Alice Cooper, “School’s out for summer.”

YEAH! WHOO!

Seventh grade has been a tough year. Not for my daughter, who faired well despite excessive tardiness and homework that fell into a black hole somewhere between our home and the schoolhouse door.

It was instead a tough year for me, due to my behavior problems. I had a difficult time learning the proper parental protocol for picking up a junior high student after school, which resulted in many looks of disbelief, a plethora of 13-year-old eye rolling and more than my share of the withering rebuke, “Daddy!” hissed through gritted teeth.

My wife and I worked out a system for the back and forth to school. I stayed completely out of the morning routine, using my unpredictable newspaper schedule as an excuse to lie there and dream or drowsily enjoy the smell of bacon wafting up from the kitchen.

“Gosh, I sure would like to get up early with you guys and take part in the tension-filled, hectic rush to get ready and out the door, but there could be late-breaking news tonight and I need to be well rested and razor sharp. Just leave me some bacon.”

But I did my part by picking up the youngster each day and getting her safely to whatever endeavor she was undertaking on a particular afternoon. That’s where my behavior problems surfaced.

I will list a few of my unforgivable picking-up-a-teen-from-school faux pas.

1. Trash in the back of the truck.

One day, I tossed a few of the many broken items around our house into the back of the truck along with a couple of stray trash bags that never made it to curbside pickup. My intended journey to the dump was delayed. 3 p.m. arrived, so the trash and I headed for school, inched along in the car rider line and finally made it to the spot where kids gather for pickup.

My daughter, book bag in hand, stared at the contents of the truck bed.

A look of disbelief.

An eye roll.

She opened the passenger door.

“Daddy!”

“What?”

“Trash?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you bring trash to school?”

“Well, I did have the Jonas Brothers back there but they hopped out at the light.”

2. Demonstrative greetings.

Early in the year, believing that a daughter would appreciate a warm and genuine salutation from her father at the end of the school day while in the company of her peers, I welcomed her into the trash-free truck with an enthusiastic, “What up, sweetness?”

A look of disbelief.

An eye roll.

“Daddy!”

“What?”

“Please just don’t say anything until I close the door.”

3. Rocking.

For the first time in decades, I got into trouble for loud music. And it wasn’t that loud. But she heard it when she opened the truck door and assumed others did, too.

I admit I was rocking. It wasn’t full KISS-makeup rocking. I didn’t shout, “Freebird!” at kids waiting for rides. I didn’t flag down a hall monitor to tell him about seeing the Doobie Brothers in ’78.

It was middle-aged-man-in-khakis-at-3 p.m.-on-Tuesday rocking, a little head nod, volume at three. “Taking care of business, every day.”

A look of disbelief.

An eye roll.

“Daddy!”

“What?”

“Please turn the music down when you pick me up.”

Eventually, through repetition, I learned the proper parental protocol for picking up a junior high student after school. My truck bed is bare. My greeting is a nod, a slight smile and a polite, “Hello.” Under no circumstances do I rock.

But school’s out for summer, now, and I think it’s time to rock. I’m going to play some Alice Cooper in the truck. And I might turn it all the way up to four. YEAH! WHOO!

Scott Hollifield is editor/general manager of The McDowell News in Marion and a columnist for the Media General News Service, N.C. Contact him at P.O. Box 610, Marion, NC 28752 or e-mail .