The War Against 6th Grade Oppression

For most of the Orchard Elementary Eagles, the playground behind the school was a prison camp, ruled by the 3rd Reich of 6th graders. If you were unlucky enough to have recess at the same time than Kurt Manwaring and his gang of brutes, then you were forced to play on the short football field, you couldn't use the backstop, and you had to use the old 4-square courts, because once the 6th graders emerged from the cafeteria, you were pushed out.

Kurt Manwaring as a baby

The "good" football field was in the northwest corner of the vast expanse of grass shared with Canyon View Junior High (Gosh help you if a 7th grader trampled you down during a Fun Run). It was a soccer field, marked with boundaries and even had first down markers on the fence posts. Sometimes, during P.E., we'd have the whole field to ourselves, just us 5th graders playing peacefully in a field of long, swaying grass, not unlike a Watchtower picture depicting the Jehovah's Witness version of paradise. All that was missing was a lamb and a lion.

Recess with the 6th graders was not so paradisaical. We wouldn't even bother fighting for the good field, we'd just find our spot on this overran patch of ground that would be a stretch to call "grassy". Games here would end in bloody knees instead of green knees. There were no boundaries, so the fat kid who finally got the ball ran 100 yards out of his way to score a TD because nobody wanted to chase him. It was Football Purgatory.

One day, we decided that we were sick of Football Purgatory, so we just started playing on the good field before the 6th graders escaped the cafeteria. We played apprehensively, like a kid watching forbidden TV while their parents were unawares in the next room, knowing that it was only a matter of time before we got our hand slapped.

Somebody spied the first group of 6th graders making their way across the playground. "Act normal!" we told ourselves, "We have just as much right to be here as they!" We ran a couple more plays when the 6th graders arrived with their medium-sized football. Too big for the mini footballs, were they?

"Alright, get off the field. This is where WE play."

We looked at each other. Nobody said anything, but nobody left, either. We just resumed our game. This infuriated the antagonists. They made their way into our game, tripping the smaller kids and going after the QB. Finally, a 5th grader spoke up.

"We'll play you for it."

The 6th graders liked this idea. Of COURSE they did. They clobbered us, it wasn't even close. The 6th graders like playing us so much that they began to ask us if we wanted to play them every week. Every few weeks, the pain of complete annihilation would sink to the back of our brains and we would agree to another beating. These tri-weekly beatings became a ritual.

However, we got better and better, and one game we even scored a touchdown to only lose by like 20 or so. This encouraged us, and brought back some of the better 5th grade athletes who got so demoralized in the first game that they decided to try their hands at 4 square. Then, one cold day on the playground, we found ourselves in a defensive struggle. These games were getting more and more defensive as more and more students played. We probably had 30 kids against 30 kids out there, it was so packed. Plus, we played 2-below, so "tackling" was pretty easy.

Like this, except with 50 billion more kids

After a couple of possessions, neither team had moved the ball any and each team "punted" (hucked the ball as far as they could - an actual punt would barely pass the line of scrimmage). We pinned the 6th graders down on their goal line, and they weren't moving the ball much. On 3rd down, they decided to throw a slant across the field to future BYU benchwarmer Jason Kukahiko but Adam Keller stepped in front of it, picked it off, and waltzed into the end zone. Touchdown! Seconds later, the bell rang. End of recess--end of game! Victory! We all raised our hands in celebration, screaming like we were giving birth, running towards the school in jubilation. The 6th graders protested and complained that it "didn't count" and there HAD to have been a penalty on the play. But they knew it was too late.

Jason, the only kid from the neighborhood to make a name for himself. Except maybe Timmy G

All over the school, word got around. The 6th graders LOST to the 5th graders! We took over the good football field and the 6th graders never challenged us again. Not because they didn't want to play, but because WE didn't want to. Quit while you're on top, that's what I say!