It was a big day for the Class of ’36 at Northington Junior High, and the air felt charged. All the sports equipment in the gymnasium had been pushed back against the walls. The bleachers were in their retracted position, which the children only saw happen during standardized tests. Something was definitely happening.
As they were still in seventh grade, it was health and wellness period for most of the students. Besides their usual teacher for the subject, Mrs. Hannigan, there were also Mr. Bongers, the gym teacher; Ms. Fessworth, the history teacher; and three of the four guidance counselors watching over the crowd.
And no wonder! With all the giggling and pointing going on, you could swear they were about to commence ballroom dancing lessons. Jimmy Teasdale had been scolded twice already by stuffy, old Counselor Boggs, and it was only ten minutes into the period!
Not that anyone was counting minutes right now. Choosing Day, like Driver’s Ed, typically commanded even the most truant child’s attention. The colored banners were already set up in the six corners of the room - blue, purple and peach on the boys' side of the room, and green, pink, and red on the girls' side.
“Peach is the luckiest!” shouted Ritchie, before being swatted at by a nearby counselor.
“I don’t know,” said Molly, grinning at Patti. “I think red is pretty great.” Patti could only cover her mouth and giggle.
It was widely accepted that blue and pink got short shrift.
The teachers weren’t required to wear color badges, but many of them did anyway on Choosing Day. Mrs. Hannigan wore a little square of red hanging off the button of her corduroy jacket. Ms. Fensworth had opted for a pink neck-scarf. A few of the boys from the farmer’s complex pointed and laughed at Counselor Boggs’ stick-on violet badge until Mr. Willis, the hip, young music teacher pulled them all into the hallway just outside the gym. They got such a scolding - everyone could hear!
After a good ten minutes, all three of the boys walked back in, their faces red and their eyes on their shoes. One by one they gave an embarrassed apology to Mr. Boggs and went back to their place in line. When Mr. Willis returned, he had taken a violet kerchief from his pocket and tied it around his head, adding to the violet dot already affixed to his collar.
No one giggled and pointed at Mr. Willis. In fact a number of the boys whispered to each other, agreeing that if Willis was wearing violet, then it had to be the height of cool.
Little Tammy Jenkins broke down about halfway through the explanations. “But I don’t know what color I am,” she cried. “What if I choose wrong?”
Counselor Biggs, all dressed up in a hunter-green pants suit, patted Tammy’s hand and laughed softly. “Oh, dear, don’t worry yourself. If you decide you’ve chosen wrong, you can just switch.”
“Whenever I want?” asked Tammy.
“Yes, whenever you want,” said Mrs. Biggs.
A few other girls in line seemed to share a bit of Tammy’s relief at the news. Of course they’d known they could switch whenever they liked! But hearing this was quite comforting all the same. It was easy to forget all they’d learned in health and wellness with the moment of choice looming. After all, it was Choosing Day and you had to choose something!
All at once a clanging tone sounded, and everyone hushed up right quick, looking toward the center of the room where Mrs. Hannigan was hitting a silver triangle.
“All-right boys and girls!” said Mrs. Hannigan. “You have come quite a long way in my classes from where you started. Do you remember our first day together?” A few children giggled, remembering the awkward silences and fits of laughter. Mrs. Hannigan raised an eyebrow. “Well, are we still at the giggling stage, then? Perhaps I should keep a few of you until next Choosing Day?”
That shut them up. Rowdy or not, no child wished to even contemplate that level of embarrassment.
“As I was saying, we’ve come a long way together, and I shall certainly miss the lot of you now after you’ve passed through this most important of ceremonies. Please remember, Choosing Day is not about who you are, nor is it about who you are going to be. The choice changes nothing. Choosing Day is about two things: honesty and responsibility. Now, I know you know this, so why don’t we say those two words together.”
Mrs. Hannigan raised her green-clad arms, and with the practiced drone of young children, the crowd recited “Honesty and responsibility.”
"Very good!” beamed Mrs. Hannigan. “Responsibility for the feelings and choices of our fellows, and honesty to ourselves for our own. I do think I’ve said this once before, but today is also about bravery: both our own, and that of countless millions who lived in a time when choosing was not so easy.”
“Now, let’s ring in together your first big step toward adulthood! Let the choosing begin!” With that, she began to strike the triangle over and over again, and the children erupted into a mixture of cheers and excited talking.
The teachers began to guide the long lines of students toward their respective choosing table, one for boys and one for girls. Some children took longer than others, each counselor speaking to them quietly at the table with the utmost patience and discretion. Other teachers kept watch on the lines, breaking up groups that appeared to be levying pressure on their fellows to choose one way or another. This was an individual decision, and the natural inclinations for the children at this age to form cliques and clubs was quite disruptive to the process.
Finally the lines began to dwindle, and the children stood grouped under the banners, each wearing a shiny cloth ribbon matching the colored banner above them.
When the last child, Gabby Winters, had chosen, a cheer went up from the children, heralding Gabby to her place among those with pink ribbons. As the tumult mounted, Mrs. Hannigan gave the triangle one final jangle and handed it back to Mr. Willis. He made a show of inspecting it for damage, and the children giggled.
“Very good children! I am so proud of each of you. Now, please rejoin the teacher you came in with and we’ll continue with fifth period."
After the expected collective groan went up from the students, Mrs. Hannigan walked over to Counselor Boggs, who was tallying the numbers.
"How did we do, Jim?” she asked, straightening her jacket.
Jim looked over the papers before him. “Very well. Everyone chose. Most notably, we have twelve percent more female bisexuals than last year, and a significant drop in heterosexual males.”
“Less and less every year,” said Hannigan. “It’s a good thing they’ve made sperm donation mandatory,” she said.
Boggs nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “All in all, a wonderfully smooth Choosing Day. Congratulations.”
Hannigan smiled. “Thanks, Jim. Tomorrow it’s the sex, stimulation, and sexual cleanliness videos. It only gets harder from here.”
“Did you hear,” he said with a wrinkle of distaste, “they’re allowing gender identity selection in New Hampshire, come the new year? They’re to tie it to Choosing Day. Can you imagine? Girls just... becoming boys and vice-versa. In high school no less!”
“Come now, Jim,” said Mrs. Hannigan, helping him clean his things up. “If they don’t decide these things in the learned, accepting environment of school, where will they do it? In their bedrooms, alone, fearing disapproving parents?”
Boggs sighed, nodding. He straightened his purple tag. “Of course, you’re right. I don’t know if I shall ever get used to that level of choice, though. I suppose it was inevitable - I’ve just become an old dinosaur.”
Hannigan put her hand on Boggs’ shoulder as he grabbed his briefcase, and they walked together out of the gym. “You know, I think we all are, Jim... in our own way.”
As they were still in seventh grade, it was health and wellness period for most of the students. Besides their usual teacher for the subject, Mrs. Hannigan, there were also Mr. Bongers, the gym teacher; Ms. Fessworth, the history teacher; and three of the four guidance counselors watching over the crowd.
And no wonder! With all the giggling and pointing going on, you could swear they were about to commence ballroom dancing lessons. Jimmy Teasdale had been scolded twice already by stuffy, old Counselor Boggs, and it was only ten minutes into the period!
Not that anyone was counting minutes right now. Choosing Day, like Driver’s Ed, typically commanded even the most truant child’s attention. The colored banners were already set up in the six corners of the room - blue, purple and peach on the boys' side of the room, and green, pink, and red on the girls' side.
“Peach is the luckiest!” shouted Ritchie, before being swatted at by a nearby counselor.
“I don’t know,” said Molly, grinning at Patti. “I think red is pretty great.” Patti could only cover her mouth and giggle.
It was widely accepted that blue and pink got short shrift.
The teachers weren’t required to wear color badges, but many of them did anyway on Choosing Day. Mrs. Hannigan wore a little square of red hanging off the button of her corduroy jacket. Ms. Fensworth had opted for a pink neck-scarf. A few of the boys from the farmer’s complex pointed and laughed at Counselor Boggs’ stick-on violet badge until Mr. Willis, the hip, young music teacher pulled them all into the hallway just outside the gym. They got such a scolding - everyone could hear!
After a good ten minutes, all three of the boys walked back in, their faces red and their eyes on their shoes. One by one they gave an embarrassed apology to Mr. Boggs and went back to their place in line. When Mr. Willis returned, he had taken a violet kerchief from his pocket and tied it around his head, adding to the violet dot already affixed to his collar.
No one giggled and pointed at Mr. Willis. In fact a number of the boys whispered to each other, agreeing that if Willis was wearing violet, then it had to be the height of cool.
Little Tammy Jenkins broke down about halfway through the explanations. “But I don’t know what color I am,” she cried. “What if I choose wrong?”
Counselor Biggs, all dressed up in a hunter-green pants suit, patted Tammy’s hand and laughed softly. “Oh, dear, don’t worry yourself. If you decide you’ve chosen wrong, you can just switch.”
“Whenever I want?” asked Tammy.
“Yes, whenever you want,” said Mrs. Biggs.
A few other girls in line seemed to share a bit of Tammy’s relief at the news. Of course they’d known they could switch whenever they liked! But hearing this was quite comforting all the same. It was easy to forget all they’d learned in health and wellness with the moment of choice looming. After all, it was Choosing Day and you had to choose something!
All at once a clanging tone sounded, and everyone hushed up right quick, looking toward the center of the room where Mrs. Hannigan was hitting a silver triangle.
“All-right boys and girls!” said Mrs. Hannigan. “You have come quite a long way in my classes from where you started. Do you remember our first day together?” A few children giggled, remembering the awkward silences and fits of laughter. Mrs. Hannigan raised an eyebrow. “Well, are we still at the giggling stage, then? Perhaps I should keep a few of you until next Choosing Day?”
That shut them up. Rowdy or not, no child wished to even contemplate that level of embarrassment.
“As I was saying, we’ve come a long way together, and I shall certainly miss the lot of you now after you’ve passed through this most important of ceremonies. Please remember, Choosing Day is not about who you are, nor is it about who you are going to be. The choice changes nothing. Choosing Day is about two things: honesty and responsibility. Now, I know you know this, so why don’t we say those two words together.”
Mrs. Hannigan raised her green-clad arms, and with the practiced drone of young children, the crowd recited “Honesty and responsibility.”
"Very good!” beamed Mrs. Hannigan. “Responsibility for the feelings and choices of our fellows, and honesty to ourselves for our own. I do think I’ve said this once before, but today is also about bravery: both our own, and that of countless millions who lived in a time when choosing was not so easy.”
“Now, let’s ring in together your first big step toward adulthood! Let the choosing begin!” With that, she began to strike the triangle over and over again, and the children erupted into a mixture of cheers and excited talking.
The teachers began to guide the long lines of students toward their respective choosing table, one for boys and one for girls. Some children took longer than others, each counselor speaking to them quietly at the table with the utmost patience and discretion. Other teachers kept watch on the lines, breaking up groups that appeared to be levying pressure on their fellows to choose one way or another. This was an individual decision, and the natural inclinations for the children at this age to form cliques and clubs was quite disruptive to the process.
Finally the lines began to dwindle, and the children stood grouped under the banners, each wearing a shiny cloth ribbon matching the colored banner above them.
When the last child, Gabby Winters, had chosen, a cheer went up from the children, heralding Gabby to her place among those with pink ribbons. As the tumult mounted, Mrs. Hannigan gave the triangle one final jangle and handed it back to Mr. Willis. He made a show of inspecting it for damage, and the children giggled.
“Very good children! I am so proud of each of you. Now, please rejoin the teacher you came in with and we’ll continue with fifth period."
After the expected collective groan went up from the students, Mrs. Hannigan walked over to Counselor Boggs, who was tallying the numbers.
"How did we do, Jim?” she asked, straightening her jacket.
Jim looked over the papers before him. “Very well. Everyone chose. Most notably, we have twelve percent more female bisexuals than last year, and a significant drop in heterosexual males.”
“Less and less every year,” said Hannigan. “It’s a good thing they’ve made sperm donation mandatory,” she said.
Boggs nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “All in all, a wonderfully smooth Choosing Day. Congratulations.”
Hannigan smiled. “Thanks, Jim. Tomorrow it’s the sex, stimulation, and sexual cleanliness videos. It only gets harder from here.”
“Did you hear,” he said with a wrinkle of distaste, “they’re allowing gender identity selection in New Hampshire, come the new year? They’re to tie it to Choosing Day. Can you imagine? Girls just... becoming boys and vice-versa. In high school no less!”
“Come now, Jim,” said Mrs. Hannigan, helping him clean his things up. “If they don’t decide these things in the learned, accepting environment of school, where will they do it? In their bedrooms, alone, fearing disapproving parents?”
Boggs sighed, nodding. He straightened his purple tag. “Of course, you’re right. I don’t know if I shall ever get used to that level of choice, though. I suppose it was inevitable - I’ve just become an old dinosaur.”
Hannigan put her hand on Boggs’ shoulder as he grabbed his briefcase, and they walked together out of the gym. “You know, I think we all are, Jim... in our own way.”
