Come Roll With Us

I’m reminiscing. My Grade 9 glory days began with a rather droll incident. It was the first Sunday; the hot sun beat down on me as I lay slothfully on the steps of Privett House, my new home. All of my surroundings, including the pavement, were new to me: I had grown up in an isolated town at the end of a two kilometer gravel driveway. I did not know how to ride a skateboard, and arguably, despite my determined attempts to master this skill, I still do not. My current roommate, Fischer, and I, being the hellions we were, decided to test our inept ability to skateboard, shirtless. Wearing only a skimpy pair of rugby shorts and flip-flops (the ideal daredevil attire) we rolled out of Privett. As I warmed my wheels on the gradual slope of the basketball court, the combination of heat and anxiety dripped down my bare back and face: I was ready. Thankfully for us, Brentwood is home to a myriad of hills: big hills, short hills, steep hills, and slow hills, Brentwood has them all. In fact, the hill we naïvely challenged was so death-defying that it required a speed bump. It was perfect. I dropped the board to the ground, and it immediately replied with an unappealing clang, intended, I now recognize, to act as a warning. I ignored it and mounted my synthetic steed, un-coordinately, pushing my weight forward, setting down the hill at what was, at first, a crawl. I quickly accelerated, leaving behind the confidence I had gained from the childish slope of the basketball court. My wheels flashed over the pavement thrusting me forward as if an invisible automaton was under my board acting out a machinated fantasy of my death. The speed bump I was unable to avoid hurled me towards the heavens. My synthetic steed transformed into a beautiful Pegasus lifting me higher and higher into the air. Helios blinded me as I flew blissfully flew through the exosphere. Suddenly, without warning, Pegasus transformed yet again into a hellhound. Together we plummeted, faster than any failed rocket ship launch. Impact. The unforgiving pavement tore at my skin, leaving granules of dirt as an apology. Dead, my hellhound was. Fischer, who had been watching this spectacle devilishly, came to his senses, and my aid. He hauled me to my feet, insensitively aware of my missing skin. Together, we endured the trudge to the Maeda Health Center, where we would become formally acquainted with the most angelic of nurses. The nurses were shocked to see such an incident with less than a week of Brentwood experience under my belt but they took me in and applied soothing ointment to my lack-of-skin. The bandages hid the road rash that covered my upper body as I painfully walked back to my house. I think every Brentwood student owes a lot to the nurses. Over the course of my two years attending this school, the nursing staff and I have become more than acquainted: my name is well known, and my appearances regular. I like to think that they have grown to look forward to my visits. It doesn’t matter the injury or sickness, from road rash to concussions to common colds, nothing seems to exceed their ability. Brentwood is extremely lucky to have such dedicated, skilled, compassionate, and genuinely nice nurses. These unsung heroes are Nurse Decker, Nurse Wismer, Nurse Clark, & Nurse Stuart. On behalf of Brentwood, I say thank you for keeping us well. The Madcap, Jackson H, Privett ‘15