Tell Us About Your Physical Education Experience, Whether it was Good, Bad, or Ugly:

What Others Are Saying About P.E.

"I used to hate dodge ball. I would always get out first and just spend the rest of class on the sidelines. I loved P.E. and always got good grades in it. I just hated whenever we played that game."

Sara, age 35

"I was always the best athlete in gym class. But I could see the agony on the other kids' faces when the teacher said we were going to run the 100-yard dash for a grade or when she said we were going to play basketball and have the captains pick teams. I realize now that it was more embarrassment than agony. They were afraid to be picked last and there was no way in hell they were going to make the mark for an 'A' in the 100-yard dash. Basically for them it was literally an 'exercise in futility.' I'm sure that a lot of those kids never tried athletics in high school because they were afraid of feeling the same way."

Trevor , age 43

"Our teacher used to give us our grade on whether or not we passed that Presidential Fitness Test. I would always get a 'non-suit' on the day that we had to do the run because I knew I could never do it. So, why bother? I would rather fake forgetting my clothes than have all the pressure of doing that run and coming in last."

Alison, age 26

"I am guilty of using some inappropriate practices. After having them pointed out, I thought about it and have changed some of them. I never have captains pick teams and have stopped most elimination games. I have a zero tolerance policy on kids ridiculing one another in my class and have found that most students really want to encourage each other to run faster, jump higher or become more competent in whatever skill I am teaching. "

Jim, age 59

Although the goal of physical education is to teach students and make their lives better, the results can be the opposite if the class is taught incorrectly. My experience in physical education classes has been mostly negative from elementary school to high school and even college. I was the small, shy student that nobody wanted on their team, and the nerd all of the other students liked to pick on. Many of the things that happened to me in my p.e. classes could have been prevented by my teachers.

One bad experience I had happened in the ninth grade. It was time for physical fitness testing. You know that time of the year when you do as many pull-ups as you can even though you haven’t done them at all previous to the test. The whole class got in a big line in front of the pull-up bar. One by one we would go up and do as many pull-ups as we could. After we were done we would just stand around and see how many pull-ups everyone else could do. It came to my turn, and I went up there and did three. It was the most I had ever done. As I hung from the pull-up bar I squirmed and gave it my best to do one more. I always gave everything my best effort. My twig like arms began to shake, and I started to make some upward progress. Suddenly out of the audience of the rest of the class shouted the voice of one of the many bullies of my past. "Go Greaseball!" His cry disheartened me and I fell from the bar. I was done. The rest of the class laughed. My coach yelled, "Vanier, 25." Casey, the bully, went to the ground to do 25 pushups. For once my teacher had actually done something about the bullying, but it would be the only time.

My physical education teacher, also the high school varsity basketball coach, did nothing to help my situation one day in the locker room. We were waiting for my instructor in the locker room so we could go into the wrestling room. As we waited a group of my classmates thought it would be fun to throw me in the shower. It started out with just a few of them. They grabbed me and started dragging me to the shower. I resisted the best that I could. My last chance was the lockers next to the showers. I grabbed the inside of one of the lockers and held on. The students pulled, but I still held on as the metal from the locker cut into my fingers. Other students in the class realized the group pulling me needed some help, so they joined in. I struggled, kicked and held on the best I could, but eventually my grip couldn’t hang on. They threw me into the showers and turned them on. I tried to escape, but they pushed me back in. Eventually I got out. The group of bullies laughed, and I walked to the corner of the locker room and tried to dry myself off the best I could. I looked down at my wet, gray shorts and thought about the trouble I might get into for going to class dressed in a wet uniform. I stood there waiting for my instructor and for class to begin.

I knew it was going to be an uncomfortable period. Besides wearing wet clothes, we were wrestling. Sometimes we got in a big circle, and two people went in the middle and wrestled. I was the smallest, thinnest person in the class. No one was as small as me, and I couldn’t wrestle. I didn’t look forward to class. My teacher never said anything about my clothes. I don’t know if he didn’t notice or didn’t care.
I also don’t know if my teacher didn’t notice or didn’t care whenever he told us to pick teams in class. I was always the last one picked. It had been that way since elementary school and would go on that way into college. Even if someone was injured but could still play, that person would still be picked before I would be. Everyone based my playing ability on my size. They never gave me a chance. I wondered what it would be like to be wanted and be thought of as one of the better athletes in the class, but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Many times I started to believe I was a weakling and a failure that no one wanted.
When we played I would always be stuck in the positions no one wanted. When we played hockey I was always the goalie and when we played football I was the center. No one thought I could run or catch. I didn’t think it was the greatest idea to make the smallest person on the team the center, but what did I know about sports. Even though I was just a center I did my job the best I could. I blocked the biggest guys in the class as they rushed the quarterback. I got thrown to the ground over and over again, but I always back up and did my job. Nobody else on the team seemed to care, but I knew that I had done my best.
I had many other bad experiences in my physical education classes. I dreaded going to class everyday. I didn’t look forward to being beaten up, humiliated and laughed at. I would lay in bed at night, my arms sore from the punches they had received from the bullies at school, and wonder what was wrong with me. Why did people treat me the way they did? I had never done anything wrong to them. I wondered what it would be like not to be picked on. I wanted to know what if felt like to be successful, or to at least be given a chance. I dreamed about what it was like to be treated equal to everyone else instead of less than. I didn’t have much of a chance in my physical education classes.
To the students that bully and make fun of other students: Think about what you’re doing. Would you like to be treated the same way that you’re treating that other person? The person that you might make into your enemy could have been your friend.

To those out there that were bullied or are being bullied: Don’t ever give up on yourself. You can do anything you want to do. Don’t ever let anyone stop you. In order to get from one side of the road to the other you must cross the traffic in between. Through dedication, hard work, and by believing in yourself you can do anything.

To the teachers and future teachers of physical education: Please do what you can to help prevent your students from having the same experiences I did. Don’t let students pick teams. Don’t test students in front of the rest of the class. Watch the students at all times and if you see students bullying other students do something about it. I believe that teachers can make a difference. I hope I can.