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June 13, 2024 42 mins

Throwback Thursdays: With all the talk about today’s failing public schools…were yesterday’s any better? To find the answer, we tell the story of the time your humble co-host made the transition from elementary school to junior high…and what he learned about inner-city public schools along the way. Note: Contains adult language.

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Speaker 1 (00:00):
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Speaker 2 (00:33):
Note to parents, this episode is for adults.

Speaker 1 (00:39):
We hear a lot about our failing public schools. Despite
millions of dollars spend on educational technology programs, reading scores
and the Pittsburgh Public schools are plummeting.

Speaker 2 (00:52):
Mayordith Lazio's expensive school turnaround model has failed miserably as
there were literacy crisis in our state. Advocates say yes
and are now suing California, claiming too many students are
failing to read and write.

Speaker 1 (01:04):
The number of incidents of suspension in the Detroit public
school system are high. Sixteen thousand, test scores are dropping,
violence is increasing, and kids simply aren't learning how to
succeed in life. But with all this talk about today's
failing public schools, were yesterday's really any better?

Speaker 2 (01:25):
I'm Patrick CARELCI.

Speaker 1 (01:26):
And I'm Adriana Cortes, And this.

Speaker 2 (01:29):
Is Red Pilled America, a storytelling show.

Speaker 1 (01:32):
This is not another talk show covering the day's news.
We're all about telling stories.

Speaker 2 (01:38):
Stories. Hollywood doesn't want you to hear stories.

Speaker 1 (01:41):
The media mocks stories about everyday Americans at the Globalist ignore.

Speaker 2 (01:46):
You can think of Red Pilled America as audio documentaries,
and we promise only one thing, the truth. Welcome to
Red Pilled America.

Speaker 1 (02:08):
Today's failing public schools seems to be the topic that
never goes away. Test scores dropping, violence increasing, and kids
simply aren't learning how to succeed in life. But with
all this talk about today's failing public schools, were yesterday's
really any better? To find the answer, We're going to
tell the story of a time your humble co host
made the transition from elementary school to junior high and

what he learned about inner city public schools along the way.

Speaker 2 (02:42):
I never thought i'd be involved in a heist, But
as I stood there, shivering naked, with my hands cupping
my Johnson, I was about to realize there was no
other choice. I had to commit a crime. It was
September nineteen eighty two and I just made the jump
from Amastoy Elementary to Perry Junior High, a seventh through

ninth grade public school in Gardena, California. It was an
uneasy first day for me. I was actually entering uncharted territory.
You see, by sixth grade, I'd mastered what it meant
to be cool in elementary school without even trying. I'm
not going to try to be humble here. I had
that rare combination of athleticism, solid grades, and the boyish

good looks that exists only for a few fleeting years
just before the body goes through an awful metamorphosis. In
other words, I was not one of those clumsy, zip faced,
mustache growing sixth graders who'd prematurely started puberty. I'm sure
you remember those guys, the ones that entered that awkward
boys to men stage far too early. They had that

preteen mongoloid look. They were fugly. That was not me.
By the close of elementary school, I was reaping the
benefits of having avoided that unlucky fate. To add to
my cool factor was that I was able to pull
off being a clas clown and still get good grades.
I also had the reputation of being a good fighter,
but without yet ever being in one. I secured that

status by beating Robert, a sixth grader, in an arm
wrestling match when I was just in fifth grade. I
could still hear the sound of the back of his
hand hitting the bench. Robert was one of the toughest
kids on campus. I entered legendary status. So all that's

to say that in elementary school I had it all.
I was well rounded and popular. But little did I
know that what made kids cool and uncool on the
elementary school playground shifted dramatically in the junior high gym.

I really didn't know what to expect on my first
day at Perry Junior High, but within just a few
minutes on campus, I knew I was in trouble. The
first hint was the Gang's You could immediately feel their
presence when entering the school grounds. If you're not familiar
with the area, our part of Guardina was a bit rough.
The city sat on the border of what was thought
to be one of the most dangerous hoods in America,

South Central you know, the place made famous by the
gangster rap group NWA. My family didn't actually live in Guardina.
Our home was one city over in an all black
neighborhood of Carson, But because my mom worked in Guardina
and their schools had a bit more diversity than the
ones near our house, my mom decided to cheat. She

used our Guardina babysitters address so we could attend the
schools near her work. The Guardia of the nineteen seventies
and eighties was definitely going through some changes. It was
an area that must have been identified as uniquely poor,
because in my youngest years I could remember the local
park used to give out free lunches to the neighborhood
kids in the summer. Guardina had an even mix of

low income Hispanics, blacks, and whites, but it also had
a heavy Asian population. By the time I was entered
junior high in nineteen eighty two, the city was descending
into a dark place. The crips and the blood gangs
were growing in every nook and cranny of Los Angeles,
but Guardina was run by G thirteen or Guardina thirteen,
the thirteen standing for the thirteenth letter in the alphabet M,

which in turn stood from marijuana. G thirteen was and
is a cholo gang with direct ties to the Mexican mafia,
and Perry Junior High seemed to be their recruiting ground.
But it wasn't just the gangs that were intimidating at
my junior High. The sheer size of the school was
daunting enough. Parry had the feel of a large indoor
high school, and that's because thirty years earlier, Perry was

actually a seventh through twelfth grade institution. The campus was
so large that it had a bridge that crossed a
street so kids could reach the upper campus classrooms and
hold a culture field where small farming classes were taught,
one of the school's few saving graces, and the fences
surrounding the school seemed at least two stories tall. They

looked more designed to keep people in than out, so
going from a small elementary school to the large Perry
campus was jarring to say the least, But Perhaps what
was most unsettling about Perry was its structure. Since the
nineteen seventies, America has largely been moving away from seventh
through ninth grade junior high schools and shifting towards sixth

through eighth grade middle schools. And for good reason. If
you ask me, over that extra ninth grade year, kids
changed dramatically. Some go from boys to young men, and
their voices aren't the only thing that drops. So walking
on campus with a mass of kids who looked like
grown men was a bit of a culture shock. There

was one glaring difference between those kids and me, and
that difference was puberty. On that first day of junior
high I walked on campus and one of the first
things I noticed was that the school had armed police officers.
Everyone called them narks. Why in the hell are there

cops on campus with guns? I thought. My first class
was something called home room, a new concept for me,
and we were given, you know, our locker number and combination.
The home teacher told us some of the campus rules
and where the nurse's office was, things like that when
the bell rang, we were thrust into the abyss to

begin our day. Walking to class, I noticed that This
was not a place for the weak minded. Near the
cafeteria there was an older girl thrashing a new kid
in a Yo, Mama, battle your.

Speaker 1 (08:35):
Mama, so Harry. Even Chewbaca be saying, damn that bitch
is Harry.

Speaker 2 (08:41):
Even the chicks were hardcore at Perry. Later in the day,
we had an orientation in a small theater like room
with eighth graders and ninth graders. I sat near some
friends I knew from Amastoy, and for a brief moment,
it felt like elementary school all over again. But that
didn't last long. We watched a video about where the

name of our school came from the discovery.

Speaker 1 (09:07):
Of an awful sand for the inevitable victory of courage
by system, experience over all obstacles.

Speaker 2 (09:15):
Apparently, Perry Junior High was named after Robert E. Perry,
the Arctic explorer who was thought to be the first
person to reach the North Pole. Perry must have had
ice cubes for balls, I whispered to my friends. They
got a good chuckle as the video played. I thought
I'd keep up the laughs by making hand puppets in
the light of the projection. That's when someone tapped my shoulder.

You'll you in G thirteen, A rough looking ninth grade
cholo asked, uh no, I timidly responded the why you
thrown up the G hans? He shot back. I guess
while fooling around my friends, I unknowingly made a sign
that looked like the G thirteen's gang symbol. You best
watch yourself holns, he warned me. My friends acted like

they didn't know me. Years of a cube emulating my
cool kid status were wiped away in an instant. I
was starting from scratch and it wasn't going so well. Eventually,
physical education rolled along and class met on the black top.
Unlike schools today, genders still existed, and the classes were
split up accordingly. The boys had one instructor, the girls

had another. Our pe teacher, who we'd call Coach, was
a strict disciplinarian with an obvious military background. We thought
he was old as dirt, but he was probably only
in his late thirties. Coach walked us through the field
and told us we'd be learning a little bit about
everything from gymnastics to calisthenics exercises, and we'd also be
broken up into teams from time to time. After our tour,

He walked us into the locker room and issued everyone
at gym locker by next class, you need to have
an official Parry chin outfit, coach barked.

Speaker 3 (10:48):
It's a royal blue and white reversible shirt and blue shorts.

Speaker 2 (10:55):
We were dressing in the colors of our school mascot,
the Huskies. We could buy it at a local department
store on Guardena Boulevard, which was just walking distance from school.
He finished with, don't.

Speaker 3 (11:06):
Show up tomorrow without your Pe uniform on.

Speaker 2 (11:09):
I'd never worn a Pe uniform before. At Amastoy Elementary,
we just played socball or tetherball or basketball during recess
and then marched right back into class, all sweaty hands
caked with black asphalt from the playground. But at Perry
things were going to be different. When school ended, I
high tailed it down to Guardina Boulevard, bought the official

Perry gym outfit with the money my mom gave me,
and then headed back to school to wait for her
to pick me up when she got off work. I
went to bed that night happy I made it through
my first day, but I had no idea what was coming.

Speaker 1 (11:46):
The horrible attacks on October seventh left not only the
people in Israel horrified, but also those of us here
in the United States and all around the world. At
our PA, we care deeply about the innocent lives being
put in jeopardy over the horrors of October seventh. We
have partnered with the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews
to help address the urgent needs of Israeli people on

the ground who are living with the harsh reality of
terror every single day. Our thoughts and prayers are with
the families being impacted by this tragedy. For the month
of June, we are asking our audience to help by
signing a pledge which will be delivered to the President
of Israel to show that Christians in America are not
only standing in solidarity with the innocent lives impacted by

the events of October seventh, but that they are speaking
up as well. Let's take a stand today with the
International Fellowship of Christians and Jews to let the people
of Israel know that they're not alone. To sign the pledge,
go to support IFCJ dot org. Support IFCJ dot org
to take a stand today.

Speaker 2 (12:50):
Welcome back to Red Pilled America. So my first day
at Perry Junior High was a bit of a culture shock.
I went to bed that night happy I made it
through the day, but as I went to sleep, I
had no idea what was coming The next afternoon, when
PE period arrived, I went to the gym locker room,
jammed my backpack into my locker, put on my new

PE uniform, then headed out to the black top. Coach
lined us up military style, two arm lengths away from
one another so we'd have room to exercise. We started
off with jumping jacks, than push ups, then sit ups,
your typical calisthenics workout. Then he lined us up on
the track to check our speed in the fifty yard dash.

I did well, I'll get jump after the time. Yet
Coach yelled out so everyone could hear. It looked like
my cool factor was about to make a comeback. Maybe
this junior High thing wasn't going to be so bad
after all. By the end of class, we were worn out,
sweaty in hands, and face smudged with black top dirt,

just like in the sixth grade. The bell rang and
we had about fifteen minutes to prepare for our next class,
which seemed like a long time to me, but I
was about to learn why coach marched us in a
single file line into the locker room. And that's when
he dropped the bomb.

Speaker 3 (14:14):
Showers are mandatory, man, every single one of you must
strip down, shower up after each class. You'll be given
a towel when you're done.

Speaker 2 (14:23):
Wait, what what did he just say? Panic course through
my entire bodies. I looked around at the other.

Speaker 3 (14:30):
Guys, and don't think you can get out of here
without taking a shower before leaving this locker room. You're
gonna have to give your towel to the intendant at
the exit to prove you washed up.

Speaker 2 (14:40):
We have to get naked right now, in front of everyone.
Couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Speaker 3 (14:49):
How could this be?

Speaker 2 (14:50):
How could this be legal? How could this man demand
that we miners strip down, naked and shower? Not in prison?
Where am I? And that's when everything made sense. The
armed cops on campus, the ridiculously tall fences, the gangs,
and now forced showers. It was finally kicking in. I

was in a kid's alcatraz. I glanced down the locker
room mile at my classmates and saw somewhat the same
look of despair that I felt. On my face, and
there seemed to be a common thread to those of
us that looked panicked as I slowly began undressing like
a captured hostage and disbelief. I quickly surveyed my row
and noticed that some of my fellow inmates were already

fully in the midst of puberty. I was not not
even close. I looked down at my bushwhacker and there
was no bush. I realized I was one of the
many inhabiting my roe that were well, let's call us
the hairless cats. Making it infinitely worse was that a
small but substantial contingent had what looked like full grown

afros where the sun didn't shine. Now you have to
understand we were in Guardina, in an area that had
a large amount of low income families, along with the
absent parents that often accompanied that condition. As a result,
many of the students were either forced to grow up
fast or flunked a few grades. So some of the
seventh grade students were hardened older kids that were much

farther along in puberty. When I was finally fully undressed,
forced to strip down to my birthday suit and free willy,
I began the long naked march to the shower, where
a line was quickly forming to Nterer. I'll never forget
the scene. Many of us baldis were standing in line
with both of our hands cupping our frankin beans, making
every attempt to hide our boyhood. Some even got creative,

using baseball jockey cups to conceal their privates. If you
don't know what those are, they're the things that protect
the family jewels from being hit by an arrant hardball
to the crotch during a baseball game. Those kids were
the smart ones who'd lightly been tipped off by an
older brother. The rest of us were completely unprepared. As
I stood there, shivering, humiliated, naked and hairless, I couldn't

help but notice that there was a small faction of
students that were having a completely different experience. The kids
that had in the sixth grade prematurely entered what was
then the uncool, awkward stage of puberty, the weird looking
hair growing everywhere. Mongoloids were now standing tall smiles on
their faces with both hands on their hips, fully displaying

their manhood. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was
no longer one of the cool guys. I was now
the dork with the bald jimmichanga. Even the thinly haired
gia pet kids were in a higher pecking order. The
whole social pyramid of boyhood was now flipped upside down,
and I was at the bottom. As we stood there

waiting in line, trying not to touch one another with
our feet in a grotesque, soapy stew of shower waste,
the bushy bros began asserting their newly found dominance by
making fun of the hairless masses. What's up, koe jack,
one said, while pointing at the lower half of the
guy next to me. For us late bloomers, there was

simply no comeback. We were defenseless fish in a barrel,
and the bushy brows knew it. They had what was
as close to unbridled power as you can get for
a seventh grader because they now knew our secret at
a school, busting at the seams with girls like thanos.
With one snap of their fingers, they could expose us
to Perry's entire population of chicks. Nothing could have prepared

me for this moment. I had no older brother that
gave me a clue to my puberty progress or lack
thereof my dad, who attended the school, gave me no
warning that I'd have to hose myself down in front
of nearly fully developed young men. I stood there in
disbelief of the situation for what could have only been
about five minutes, but it felt like hours. When my

turn came, I quickly rinsed off so I can get
the hell out of there, and as I exited the shower,
coach's assistant was now seated behind a cage. He grabbed
a towel from the stack behind him and handed it
to me through a small opening of the cage. When
I took it, the first thing I noticed was that
this was no ordinary towel. It wasn't even cloth. It
was made of a thick, absorbent substance that I'd never

seen before. It seemed to be fabricated from something that
wasn't quite cloth, but wasn't quite paper either. At this
point I quickly realized something. This weird towel thing was
my ticket to leaving the locker room. If I lost it,
I'd have to strip naked again, get back in line,
face being ridiculed again, rinse off again, then get another towel.

When I was done so suffice to say, when you
got this towel from the cage attendant, you guarded it
with your life. It wasn't quite long enough to wrap
and tuck around your waist like a regular towel, so
most of us baldies used it to block our peter
as we walked back to our gym lockers. I sat
on the bench in front of my locker and slowly
came out of the haze of the past few minutes,

just long enough to get dressed. As I walked out
of that locker room, shell shocked, I handed a different
attendant my used towel and high tailed it to my
last class. The only thing that was on my mind
was to avoid any and all of the bushy brows
that could now easily embarrass me in public. But en
route to my next class, news seemed to be spreading
fast about the showering. As I passed by the cafeteria,

one of my pre puberty comrades was being destroyed in
a Yo Mama circle, and it was obvious that the
word was getting.

Speaker 1 (20:40):
Around you, Mamma so ugly she scared the hair off
your nuts.

Speaker 2 (20:46):
The dorks were now the cool kids. The cool kids
were now the dorks. I lowered my head and ran
to my next class. As I sat at my desk,
I didn't hear a word the teacher said. All I
could think about was what I just experienced. The showering
trauma was now embedded deep into my psyche, never to

be erased. The final school bells startled me awake, Still
worried someone from the shower would publicly humiliate me, I
ran with my head low to the spot right outside
the school where Mom was supposed to pick me up.
I had about a half an hour to kill before
she got off work, so I began plotting. It was

no way I was going to go through that horrific
showering nightmare again. Think Patrick, Think, I thought to myself,
there had to be a way out of this. That's
when it hit me. I remember to keep part of
the whole ordeal, and it was at that moment that
I knew I had no other choice. I was going
to be committing a heist, no matter what the cost.

More after the break, the horrible attacks on October seventh
left not only the people in Israel horrified, but also
though of us here in the United States and all
around the world. At our PA, we care deeply about
the innocent lives being put in jeopardy over the horrors
of October seventh. We have partnered with the International Fellowship

of Christians and Jews to help address the urgent needs
of Israeli people on the ground who are living with
the harsh reality of terror every single day. Our thoughts
and prayers are with the families being impacted by this tragedy.
For the month of June, we are asking our audience
to help by signing a pledge which will be delivered
to the President of Israel to show that Christians in

America are not only standing in solidarity with the innocent
lives impacted by the events of October seventh, but that
they are speaking up too. Let's take a stand today
with the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews to let
the Jewish people know that they are not alone. To
sign the pledge, go to support IFCJ dot org. Support

IFCJ dot org to take a stand today.

Speaker 1 (23:01):
Do you want to hear red Pilled America stories ad free,
then become a backstage subscriber. Just log onto Redpilled America
dot com and click join in the topmenu. Join today
and help us save America one story at a time.

Speaker 2 (23:16):
Welcome back. So, I had just been through the most
humiliating experience of my young life. During a mandatory pea shower,
I learned there were two classes of boys in our school,
the hairless Masses, of which I was a member, and
a small but now powerful group of bushy bros. While
waiting for my mom to pick me up from school,
I began plodding. There was no way in hell I

was going to go through that, stripping down naked and
taking a shower again. That's when it hit me. I
remember to keep part of the whole ordeal, and it
was at that moment that I knew I had no
other choice. I was going to be committing a heist,
no matter what the cost. I initially ran through a
few options of how I could avoid the humiliation. I

could fake an illness in the morning, but that would
only put off my embarrassment for one day. I could
steal a towel from someone else, but that too would
only buy me twenty four hours. I'd be back to
thieving again the next day. Somehow, some way, I had
to get my hands on a bunch of those imitation
towel things, but they were some weird, mass produced industrial product,

probably only sold in bulk to public schools and prisons.
You have to remember this was in nineteen eighty two,
before there was an Internet, so a twelve year old
finding a gym towel supplier was never gonna happen. That's
when I remembered something. The caged attendant who handed me
the towels pulled them from a stack behind him, a stack.

If I could get my hands on that pile, I
could steal enough to get me through a couple of weeks,
maybe even a month. Eureka, I was onto something, but
it would all come down to the execution. Now pause
here for a second and admit that I didn't have
a really good track record for theft. Every time I
tried to pull off a heist in my short twelve

years of existence, something always went catastrophically wrong. I could
remember the first time I ever dabbled in theft. I
must have been about four ish at the time. I

was at my nana's house one day and I noticed
in the family room there was a five gallon Sparklet's
bottle filled about halfway up with money coins to be
exact quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. At the time, I
wasn't entirely sure what money even was or how it worked,
but I knew it was good to have, so I
tipped over the sparklet's bottle and snatched up a handful

of coins. I directed my baby's sister to do the same.
We filled our pockets until not one more coin could fit,
but we didn't exactly think it. You see, I was
still young enough that my nana had to dress me.
All I remember is when she went to change my pants,
an endless stream of coins fell out of my pocket, pennies, nickels, dimes,

and like three quarters. I was caught red handed. Not
only was I too dumb to stash my loot in
a better place, I was oblivious to the fact that
it would have been far more lucrative to focus on
the quarters. I was a crappy thief. When I was caught.
I knew I was in trouble, but I don't remember
the punishment. I can just recall my nana's reaction. She
initially began laughing, but quickly caught herself and smoothly transitioned

to a disappointed look. I learned that day what I'd
done was stealing and to never steal from family. But
I apparently hadn't learned the principle that all stealing was bad.
That would come a few months later. It was the

early evening and my mom took my sister and I
to the local grocery store Alpha Beta. Mom loaded up
the cart, then jumped in line to pay. As we
were waiting, my sister and I noticed a bag of
caramel cubes was opened near the magazine rack, no doubt
the remains of another miniature thief. We looked at the bag,
caught each other's eyes, then slowly glanced back at Mom.

She was busy loading the conveyor belt. The coast was clear,
so my sister and I grabbed a few pieces of
caramel squares and put them in our pockets. Mom didn't
see we'd gotten away with it, but again we didn't
plan it out well. As Mom small talked with the cashier,
I must have gotten Nancy because I had a mouthful
of my favorite candy and was carelessly chewing away. My

sister followed my lead well. As Mom reached for her
purse in the cart, she took one look at my
sister and quickly deduced she'd just committed a crime, and
now she was trying to swallow the evidence. What's that
you're chewing on, she asked, Carmell. My sister answered with
a full mouth. I quickly swallowed mine, but I guess

the line of Carmel's slabberd dribbling down my face gave
me away. She raided my pockets and found the goods.
That's when she looked over at the cashier and calmly
asked to speak to the manager. I knew at that
moment we were in deep shit. When the manager walked up,
my mom pulled him to the side and whispered something
in his ear. The next thing I knew, the fifty

something year old man pulled my sister and I to
the side, bent down on one knee, and asked me
a question I'll never forget. Do you guys want to
go to jail?

Speaker 3 (28:39):

Speaker 2 (28:39):
Humhm, I thought, still chewing. Can't believe it. My mom
ratted me out. No, I responded, fighting back the tears
with the delicious taste of Carmel still swishing through my mouth.
The store manager proceeded to tell my sister and I
that he could call the cops, immediately have us handcuffed
and haul off to prison for who knows how long.

That was the moment my five year old ass was
scared straight. Getting a few squares of carmel wasn't worth
being thrown in the slammer. So I never thought of
taking something that wasn't mine again, that is until that
September afternoon at Perry Junior High. I had an abysmal
Zho to two record in previous heists, but I didn't

care what the consequences were This time. I was not
going to expose my hairless Peter to ridicule ever again.
This time, I had to meticulously devise how I was
going to get my hands on that stack of imitation
towels behind the cage. If I could grab at least
twenty of those golden tickets, i'd avoid mandatory showers for
at least a month, and who knows in that amount

of time, I could sprout a few hairs. If not,
I'd have to recommit the crime. As I sat at
school waiting for Mom to pick me up, the plan
was coming together. I'd have to break into the cage
with the stock of towels restored, and grab his many
as I could without making it look like some were missing.
I could then store them in my gym locker and
pull out one after each pe class to avoid the shower.

But how would I break into the cage. I didn't
know the lay of the land well enough yet, so
I thought of something simple. I'd take an injury A
good fifteen minutes before the shower bell rang the coach
in the locker room. Attendants would all still be on
the field, so I'd probably have the locker room pretty
much all to myself. If I couldn't get to the
stack of towels in the cage, I'd find a used
one somewhere anywhere and lived to steal another day. Mom

eventually picked me up. We went home, I did my homework,
We had dinner, then I went to bed and laid
there thinking the whole thing through this time, Patrick, you're
not going to get caught, I thought, what am I missing?
I've got to be missing something. That's when I realized
I couldn't just pull a towel out every day. I'd
need to play the part a bit more. My hair

would have to be wet when I handed the attendant
the towel the hair on top of my head, of course,
because that's the only place I had it. With my
hair wet, I wouldn't set off any red flags. Of course,
he showered his hair as wet, the tendant would think
what else am I missing? I couldn't think of anything.
I went to bed that night thinking I devised the
perfect crime. So the next day PE arrived and I

nervously but eagerly headed to the locker room early, hoping
to get a lay of the land before faking my injury.
And it was time well spent. The cage that housed
the towels was really just a small enclosure where the
bottom half was a solid counter and the top half
was made of a thick fence material, making it look
like a cage. The attendant handed us the towel through

a door in the fencing that could be swung open
and lock shut. When I checked it from a distance,
I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. That's when
I got an idea. I ripped a piece of lined
paper out of my three ring binder, snuck over there,
and stealthily jammed as much paper as possible into the
place where the door locked. That way if someone nonchalantly

closed the cage while we were out in Pe, it
wouldn't lock. Everything was falling into place. Now all I
had to do was fake an injury while the coach
and his assistants were on the field, get sent to
the locker, reach into the cage, grab some towels, not
too many, then store them in my gym locker. As
I got dressed for Pe, I kept running through everything

in my head, trying to think if I'd missed anything. Nope, nothing,
This plan is airtight. That day we started with calisthenics again. Damn,
how can I fake an injury doing jumping Jackson's sit ups.
My plan was already falling apart. But then about fifteen

minutes in coach made an announcement.

Speaker 3 (32:51):
Line up in a single phone line. We're giving him
to learn gymnastics tumbles.

Speaker 2 (32:56):
Yes, tumbles are those gymnastic moves that you jump forward
as if you're flying like Superman, and right before you
hit the ground you tuck your head and arms and
roll onto your back and pop right up onto your feet.
It was perfect. If I got hurt doing that, it
would look believable. There was no time to waste. We
were now already twenty minutes into class. So when it

was my turn to tumble, I went for it. Ah ah,
I grabbed my shoulder win singing pain. Coach came over
and asked what was wrong. I hit my shoulder when
I hit the ground. Oh. He glanced me over and
looked concerned. It was working. That's when he said, all right, son,

go to the nurse and have her check it out.
Oh no, that wasn't part of the plan. I had
to think fast on my feet. I kept holding the
bottom of my elbow to keep the ruse going. Oh
that's okay, coach, I'll be fine with you cut me off.

Speaker 3 (33:57):
Okay, then get back in line.

Speaker 2 (33:59):
I mean, I'll fine with a little rest. Maybe I
should just call it a day, coach. He wasn't having it.

Speaker 3 (34:05):
Well, you're either going to the nurse or you're getting
back in line. You pick.

Speaker 2 (34:09):
I had no other choice. I had to choose the nurse.
But I was running out of time. It was only
like twenty minutes left in class. There was no way
I could go to the nurse's office, get myself checked out,
then get back to the locker room to steal the
towels before our class let in. I had to improvise.
As I began walking toward the nurse's office, coach held out, Colchi,

I'm sure to bring a note from the nurse to
class tomorrow. Damn it, What am I gonna do now?

Speaker 3 (34:36):

Speaker 2 (34:36):
I walked out of the gym, but instead of heading
to the nurse's office, I jetted towards the locker room.
I'd go see the nurse after I got the towels.
I got into the locker room and quickly glanced around.
There was no one in sight. So I ran over
to the cage and there they were a stack of
towels on the back shelf and the door was still open.
Here was my chance. I leaned over the counter to

try to grab them, but but couldn't reach. The shelf
was too far. So I hopped over the counter and
grabbed about a three inch stack. But just when I
started to climb back over, I heard some voices. Hey, Carl,
you think I give one rat's ass?

Speaker 3 (35:14):
What these kids think of me?

Speaker 2 (35:15):
So I quickly ducked behind the counter. It sounded like adults.
Oh man, how am I gonna get out of this?
From what they were talking about, it sounded like it
was janitor's and each year these kids get more and
more arrogant. Oh poor shit man, Come on, Verne, the

kids haven't changed, you have. They kept talking and talking
and talking and won't leave, Still ducking behind the counter.
I looked over at the clock on the back wall
of the cage. This shower bell was gonna ring in
about five minutes. Oh, I'm busted. I knew I shouldn't
have tried this. What were you thinking?

Speaker 3 (35:55):

Speaker 2 (35:56):
The two kept talking and talking until I could hear
their voices slowly starting to drift away, and then silence.
They'd left. I only had about three minutes before the
shower bell rang, so I jumped back over the counter
with the towels, ran to my locker, quickly entered the combination,
shoved those golden tickets behind my gym bag, and started

changing my clothes. When I looked down the aisle and
saw one of my hairless classmates sitting there looking at me.
Did he just get there? Did he see the towels?
I didn't have time to worry about it now. I
had to get out of there before coach showed up.
I was supposed to be at the nurse's office. I
quickly changed, and right when I started putting my shoes on,

the shower bell rang no no, no, no, no, no no.
I tied my shoes into a quick mess of a
knot and did my best version of a speed walk
to get the hell out of there. And just when
I created some distance between me and the locker room exit,
I heard Coach yell out.

Speaker 3 (36:55):
Hey, curl try that was fast. What did the nurse say?

Speaker 2 (36:59):
He thinks I went already, Uh, Coach, she said, I
probably pulled something. Nothing broken.

Speaker 3 (37:05):
Well, that's good.

Speaker 2 (37:06):
Not the note, Uh Coach, It's in my locker. I
was digging a deeper hole. Okay, can I bring you tomorrow.
I'm gonna be late to class.

Speaker 3 (37:16):
Sure, I put some eyes on. That's nice.

Speaker 2 (37:18):
On man, that was close. But I couldn't just go
to my last class. I had to get to the nurse,
which was about halfway through the campus, and get a
note to bring to Coach for the following day. I
shoved through the sea of students, and when I arrived
at the nurse's office there was a short line of
kid's nothing seemed serious. Someone needed a large bandage for
a scrape elbow. Another kid felt sick, After about fifteen minutes,

my turn came and I told the nurse i'd hurt
myself tumbling in PE. She gently poked and prodded at
my shoulder and quickly surmised that nothing was broken. You
probably just tweaked it, she said, nothing to worry about.
As I began walking out, I realized I hadn't gotten
the note. H ma'am, Can I get a note to
give to my coach? Sure, honey. She grabbed a piece

of paper from her coat and scribbled for a second,
then handed it to me. That's when I realized I
was screwed. She wrote the time two fifteen pm. That
was twenty minutes after PE was over. But I saw
Coach near the locker room before class ended. What was
I gonna do now? I went to my last class

and tried to focus, but again PE had me preoccupied.
It took me until late that night to figure out
what to do. I went to gym class the next
day and handed Coach the note.

Speaker 3 (38:37):
What happened to this?

Speaker 2 (38:39):
I smudged the time with water. It must have gotten
wet in my locker. Coach, you know, from the shower water.
He looked at the note, then looked at me again.
He was quiet for a second, a long second. Then
said Coach put the note in his pocket, and that
was it. I'd gotten away with it. I exect cuted

my plan flawlessly. For the next few days, I went
shower free. When everyone was shivering naked line, I slipped
into the bathroom, washed my hands and face, and dipped
my head in the sink to make it look like
I'd washed it. Then I'd slipped back to my locker
and while everyone in my aisle was in the shower,
I'd changed quickly, grab a towel from behind my gym bag,

dried my hair with it to make it look wet,
and then left, handing that golden ticket to the locker
room attendant on the way out. I was set. I
could do this for another four or five weeks. That's
how many towels I grabbed. It was the perfect crime.
But about a week after the heist, while in the
bathroom faking a shower, I noticed that the guy who
saw me in the locker room on the day of

my burglary was doing the same thing. I was washing
his hands and face and sprinkling water in his hair.
He looked over at me and winked. Over the next
few days, someone else joined us in the bathroom. The
following day, a different kid took up another sink. Before
I knew it, every scene was being used by a
classmate faking a shower, and we all had something in common.

None of us had entered puberty. The Baldies had cut
onto my scam. About a week later, our gym lockers
were raided by the narks. The Fuzzlests were busted by
the fuzz Which leads us back to the question were

yesterday's public schools any better than today's. Well, it depends
on how you look at it, but my take is
they might have been worse. My nineteen eighties public Junior
high gave me no option but to turn to crime. However,
I missed a detail in my scheme. Once news spread

that I was successfully avoiding the showers, the Baldy crew
slowly caught on and followed my lead, just like my
sister did with the carmels. Towels were disappearing from the
cage at a rate that far exceeded the number of
Jim students. It was only a matter of time before
the attendant did the math. Everyone who was caught with
towels in the raid had to run extra laps around

the field for a week. I was right back to
getting in line and facing the insults. A few years later,
I too would become a bushy bro. But as fate
would have it, by my early twenties, I started losing
what I had on top of my head. My hair
or lack thereof, was always keeping me humble. So unless

today's gym teachers are forcing students to take showers, I
think yesterday's public schools are just as bad as today's.
Transgender students in the five high schools within District two
eleven now have unrestricted access to locker rooms and restrooms.
Uh wait a minute, I may have to rethink that.

Speaker 1 (41:50):
Red Pilled America is an iHeartRadio original podcast. It's produced
by me Adrianna Cortez and Patrick Carrelchi for Informed Ventures.

Speaker 3 (41:57):

Speaker 1 (41:57):
Our entire archive of episodes is only available to our
backstage subscribers. To subscribe, visit Redpilled America dot com and
click support in the topmenu. That's Red Pilled America dot
com and click support in the top menu. Thanks for listening.
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