Mr. Muggs Story or Debacle

A Little campy story told as good as my memory allows in good humor. I should of flee to the game

It was 1972, I was in grade one at (will give the pseudonym Herman) public school in Thunder Bay Ontario. In September the Soviet Union national team vs Team Canada has enraptured or maybe stress the country, city’s, communities by extension school and pupils, it was a big deal.

Herman was one of those early thinking open concept schools; no wall between classes; imaginary walls save for low lying cubby holes (for boots and lunch) as demarcation between grades.

First, fast forward years; I was the kind of kid that would deke out of school to attend the annual Central Canada hockey tournament at Fort Williams Garden or skip out to watch the Minnesota high school tourney’s on TV with the lovable distinct voice of Lou Nanne calling colour.A decade later I follow hockey, struggling Leafs, hockey draft, everything hockey as a diversion to mortality sensibilities.

Back to 1972. Over the PA of Herman school system our stoic principal told student to go to the library (center of open concept school) to watch the balance of Russia- Canada game eight. Student began to line up in tidy little formation and headed to the library, our teacher said “we can go as soon has we finished our Mr Muggs excersice ” I was mortified”!

One by one the student earnestly finished their Mr. Muggs assignment happily scamper off to the Library to join the cheering, hooping I could hear and see from my class for cripes sake.Finally the teacher and me were the only one left, I can only assume amid the contagious jubilations she left to tend to rest of class in her wake a stern grade three in my charge materialize. She made it clear she was not letting me go to the Library until I was done with the cold stone sensibility of a…… grade three in charge of grade oner.

The rest I can’t really remember, I was stuck in quagmire of Mr. Muggs purgatory, the pressure anxiety seed forming in my six year psyche. Futile panics envelopes me as I can hear the cheers growing to a crescendos, my ready mix was setting in, in term of complete my assignment; fight or flight I should have flew down to the library then and there. Before long joyous, yipping student some big and unruly; long hair, outlandish big jeans that scared bejesus out of me and small like me broke out of the school like the famous Grease scene ; (getting out of school for the summer).And with them the grade three pupil assigned to monitor me, vanished.

I remembered that series vaguely, I think I knew all the name on Canadian side a few on the Russian side and how the living room grew silent during a sweats laden Phil Esposito interview was apropos to what transpired craziness, buffoonish, mortal compete ,our best- there best the whole shebang .

But I do remember where I was during that iconic goal Mr. MMMM Henderson goal.

Mr. Muggs Story or Debacle

A Little campy story told as good as my memory allows in good humor. I should of flee to the game

It was 1972, I was in grade one at (will give the pseudonym Herman) public school in Thunder Bay Ontario. In September the Soviet Union national team vs Team Canada has enraptured or maybe stress the country, city’s, communities by extension school and pupils, it was a big deal.

Herman was one of those early thinking open concept schools; no wall between classes; imaginary walls save for low lying cubby holes (for boots and lunch) as demarcation between grades.

First, fast forward years; I was the kind of kid that would deke out of school to attend the annual Central Canada hockey tournament at Fort Williams Garden or skip out to watch the Minnesota high school tourney’s on TV with the lovable distinct voice of Lou Nanne calling colour.A decade later I follow hockey, struggling Leafs, hockey draft, everything hockey as a diversion to mortality sensibilities.

Back to 1972. Over the PA of Herman school system our stoic principal told student to go to the library (center of open concept school) to watch the balance of Russia- Canada game eight. Student began to line up in tidy little formation and headed to the library, our teacher said “we can go as soon has we finished our Mr Muggs excersice ” I was mortified”!

One by one the student earnestly finished their Mr. Muggs assignment happily scamper off to the Library to join the cheering, hooping I could hear and see from my class for cripes sake.Finally the teacher and me were the only one left, I can only assume amid the contagious jubilations she left to tend to rest of class in her wake a stern grade three in my charge materialize. She made it clear she was not letting me go to the Library until I was done with the cold stone sensibility of a…… grade three in charge of grade oner.

The rest I can’t really remember, I was stuck in quagmire of Mr. Muggs purgatory, the pressure anxiety seed forming in my six year psyche. Futile panics envelopes me as I can hear the cheers growing to a crescendos, my ready mix was setting in, in term of complete my assignment; fight or flight I should have flew down to the library then and there. Before long joyous, yipping student some big and unruly; long hair, outlandish big jeans that scared bejesus out of me and small like me broke out of the school like the famous Grease scene ; (getting out of school for the summer).And with them the grade three pupil assigned to monitor me, vanished.

I remembered that series vaguely, I think I knew all the name on Canadian side a few on the Russian side and how the living room grew silent during a sweats laden Phil Esposito interview was apropos to what transpired craziness, buffoonish, mortal compete ,our best- there best the whole shebang .

But I do remember where I was during that iconic goal Mr. MMMM Henderson goal.