Gade 7 or 8, St. Agnes High School.
A class of perhaps 20 or 30 kids, of whom 3 I remember as "The Smart Ones".
First there was Robert F., a large, oversized teen-ager who'd been held back a few years. He'd been expelled - again and again - his parents owned a smoke/novelty shop down on Main St. He had the bad habit of telling the teachers to "Fuck Off" and "What are you going to do about it?" and "Smoke the bone...". Which explained why he was so frequently expelled and held back.
We had an art class - I was never good at art, but Robert, he showed some talent. I remember the art teacher, obviously in some ways aware of trouble at home, trying to encourage him, congratulating him on some stencilling he'd done with autumn leaves, and as much as he didn't like criticism he liked praise even less; getting tired of her telling what he could do if he applied himself ended up telling her to "Smoke the bone, you old...".
That was the last we saw of him. I googled him, discovered someone that may or may not have been him, doing well, professional, and so glad that things for him worked out in the end.
Then there was Tommy K., a smaller student, who was forever reading books and chipping in irrelevant facts, the only one I can recall was that the Emperor Nero threw fabulous parties, and the fruit on his table was carved out of amethyst and ivory and other semi-precious gems, and that the guests were compelled by etiquette to eat it. Probably the only fact about Emperor Nero we were equipped to deal with. I recall once being invited to his house, a clapboard shack down near the rail tracks, a bright, bare swinging bulb hanging from the ceiling, his fat mother or grandmother in a rocking chair, and a trap-door in the floor that led into a basement I desperately wanted to explore...
And then there was Joey D. He was by far the most popular kid - again small, an accomplished magician, being invited to his place it was old - his parents, too old to have a kid so young, the house always dimly lit, they collected Royal Doulton figurines, and Joey would warn us against playing too hard, forever reminding us that they were worth a thousand or more dollars apiece.
In the back yard Joey had a swimming pool, one of those above-ground affairs, maybe 4 feet deep, that helped contribute to his popularity, he had parties in which all the most popular kids in school were invited.
I was never so popular that I was invited.
I remember too, Martin R., a friend of mine, quite possibly the least popular kid in school, for reasons which I'll describe here. His ability to release suffocating farts on demand. He was large, far larger than his peers, not just tall but fat, he sweated with the least exertion, and he got permission to exit the classroom whenever he felt any uncertainty in his bowels. He also made spit yo-yo's, which if you don't know involve dribbling a bit of gob or phlegm down his chin, then sucking it back up, and he could let a yo-yo descend a good 2 or 3 feet without losing it, as disgusting as it was the boy kids couldn't help being somewhat impressed.
One day Martin R. did his family tree with his parents, and discovered that he was in some ways related to Joey. Joey probably knew and had kept quiet about it. Joey was not so impressed with the news...
Joey had a habit of missing classes, his parents would keep him out for reasons we weren't privy. He would hand in his note, explain to the rest of the class that he had "Tea With The Queen", and some of the less-bright ones were pretty impressed, myself amongst them.
And Joey got to see films that none of us were allowed to - "The Life of Brian" springs to mind, the Pope himself had forbidden us to go see it, as did the teachers, but Joey, well, Joey led a privileged life.
***
Life passes. In my early 40's I took my son to see a play at Jubilations - a musically themed dinner party restaurant in Calgary. They were bad plays, appealing to a generation a bit older than myself that didn't understand theatre or food. Their plays almost always involved "Elvis" being resurrected and doing some dumb number and saving the day, they were bad enough that my son got a pass to drink wine, he was 13 years old, until the waitress cut him off and gave me shit...
Joey recognized me, stopped by, we caught up on the intervening 30 years. And I understood him a lot better, and there was no reason to understand any more. And when he'd left I explained to the boy that if he didn't do well in theatre this would always be an option, and I think he got the hint...