P.E. Class Explained By 21 Jump Street
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P.E. Class Explained By 21 Jump Street

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

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P.E. Class Explained By 21 Jump Street
Life Between Frames

Let me just start by telling you guys that I was lying. It really wasn't the best of times, it was actually just the worst of times. In fact, physical education class throughout my years of primary education is where some of my uncomfortable and humiliating memories took place.

The pure embarrassment and discomfort I experienced in my school's gym throughout my life are feelings I would love to forget, but those painful memories will most likely be ingrained in my brain for years to come. For all of my fellow uncoordinated and non-athletic humans out there, here is gym class as explained by 21 Jump Street.

Hopefully, this will serve as a comedic recap of your terrible gym class years, and maybe shine some positive light on some uncomfortable memories.

"Bring your swimsuits for next class!"

Whenever our gym teacher told us that we were going to be swimming next class, we all went through the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Despite the fact that I was a swimmer in high school, swimming in gym class will forever be one of the worst things gym teachers ever put us through. I need to first point out that gym teachers were always way too peppy and excited about making us swim during class. Did they enjoy seeing our pain and watching us squirm?

How did they expect us to get into that bitter cold water with no complaints? I still do not understand the whole concept of swimming during gym class, and I will never forget walking around school for the rest of the day with soaking wet hair and chlorine scented skin. An added bonus was that with such little time to change, most of us usually ended up putting on at least one article of clothing inside out or backwards.

"Give me twenty push-ups, girls!"

When someone in your class would do something to make the teacher upset, so the teacher would take it out on everyone by making them run, do push-ups, jumping jacks, or some other ridiculous form of torture. The worst part was, you could never say anything to reason with the gym teacher because they always seemed to be done with everyone's terrible attitudes. Hey, Coach, since you love exercising so much, why don't you give us twenty push-ups?

That one kid who actually cared.

Is there anything worse than being yelled at by your coach? The answer is yes. Being yelled at by a fellow classmate is so much worse. Why are you yelling at me to go catch the football? Are you really that competitive, or are you just trying to make my life even more miserable? You should try targeting all this energy into something that actually matters, like making friends maybe? News flash: no one can stand you, Sally. Please, for the love of God, give up already.

When your best friend partnered with someone else.

This is the absolute definition of betrayal. Jen, if I would've known you were going to partner with that piece of scum, I would not have made you chocolate chip pancakes on Sunday morning. I even shaped those pancakes into Disney characters. Remember when we watched "High School Musical" and sang all the songs together?

Apparently not, because if you did, you wouldn't throw our friendship away like this. I guess you have to expect the unexpected, even when it's least expected more most unexpected. See, Jen, you've got my mind all scrambled with all these feelings of sadness and distress.

The mile run.

This might be the only thing worse than swimming in gym class. Seriously, who ever thought the mile run was a good idea? The worst thing about the mile run was the gym teachers cheering us on from the sidelines.

My only request I ever had was to see my gym teachers run like they made us run, so I could stand on the sidelines and happily cheer them on while they exerted themselves to the point of physical pain and exhaustion. On top of that, they should be forced to go sit in a hot classroom and learn about math after. Who's peppy now, huh?

Being forced to play aggressive sports.

Aggressive sports, such as floor hockey, were always both a blessing and a curse. Aggressive sports were all fun and games until someone ends up with a tooth being knocked out or the entire gym class gets a referral.

The only sports we all actually cared about and tried in were the aggressive sports, but on the other hand, we got ourselves into a lot of trouble and a lot of fights because of the level of passion and intensity we played with. Warning: Don't give a bunch of high school girls hockey sticks, because someone will be demolished. Second warning: That someone won't be me. It'll most likely be you.

Can you guess who you are in this scene?


When someone was injured in class.

Why is Sarah crying? Who's fault was it?

Oh no. The questions start being raised by your upset and confused gym teacher. You deny having seen anything, but you know darn well that it was Brittany who tripped her. You also know that your class will never hear the end of this incident because Sarah is the teacher's pet. Sarah actually tries in gym, which means now that Sarah is out for a couple days, your class will be yelled at even more than usual for lack of participation and effort. Thanks, Brittany.

Gym tests.

"P.E. is fun," they said. "You get to just run around all the time and play," they said.

The whole concept of gym tests is completely unfathomable. I thought the whole point of P.E. was to get a physical education with an emphasis on the word physical. So why are we being tested on whether or not the ball is considered in when it lands on the line? By the way, that question is the hardest question in the entire world. I'd rather do the quadratic formula one hundred times over than have to answer that question on a gym test.

Trying to get sick before class so you could be excused.

This was the oldest trick in the book, but somehow it always ended up failing. No matter how bad your "headache" or "stomach ache" was, your gym teacher never had any sympathy for you. You better push through the fake illness and take a lap with the rest of the class, but while you're at it, you better not forget to fake some winces of pain to remind your gym teacher how awful they are for making you participate with your fake illness.

Fitness tests.

Twice a year every year, we faced the worst of our nightmares head on: the fitness tests. I will forever swear on my life that Satan himself invented the fitness tests that are now used to torture and embarrass students of all ages. The wretched pacer was a test designed to see how fast and long you can run, and with each passing level, the time you had to make it across the gym got shorter and shorter. Next, you had to perform as many push-ups as you could, and then you had to do as many sit-ups as possible. You can see the gym teachers judging you from behind their clipboard as the mark down that you only completed one sit up, and you can see some girls in the corner laughing at you. Man, I love high school.

Trying to explain your gym horrors to your parents.

They were a kid once, so they should completely understand your pain. Instead, they only offer awkward condolences and pity.

Even worse, they say, "P.E. is supposed to be fun! Just enjoy the exercise."

Enjoy the exercise? What does that even mean? How does one enjoy the exercise, or in other words, the extreme discomfort and embarrassment of being forced to be physically active in front of your judgmental peers? I can't enjoy the process of being humiliated and yelled at every other day, so you need to find me a way to get out of this never-ending nightmare.

Except the nightmare did end after high school ended. So for all of you P.E. haters out there, life gets better when you graduate high school and move on to bigger and better things, also known as college, the land of the free, the land of the brave. Except now you have to actually be responsible, so you have to go to the gym by your own free will to avoid getting the Freshman 15. It's a never ending cycle of torture, and I pray we all make it through alive.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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