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Moved to Wordpress

Hi Everyone,

I've decided to move this blog over to Wordpress. You can now find it at http://putthekidstosleep.wordpress.com. Please visit there from now on.

Thanks,

Jamie

Losing our Marbles

The following is a story I wrote in a workshop 2 years ago to describe why and how I came to be in Public Relations.

My father called them ‘alleys’ – probably because they resemble the fulsome yellow eyes of alley cats – but I always knew them as marbles, the schoolyard currency of preadolescent boys jammed deep into overall pockets or toted in the purple velvet sacks that came with high-end rye whiskeys. In the late 80’s marbles occupied every school recess and lunch break. Kings, Jumbos, Steelies, Opals, Black pearls - I had them all. At age nine I was the neighborhood pro and a little bit obsessed. Strangely enough, however, my absorption in marble culture offered me unique opportunities to discover early communications skills, which can now serve as poignant examples of how I was steered into the public relations field.

Like almost everyone, we had a peculiar teacher at our school who, in addition to wearing black socks with sandals, garish broaches in the shapes of animals and unhealthy amounts of perfume that somehow smelled fluorescent, was also a really unhappy woman. She especially hated marbles. She hated how the kids in her class would trade marbles behind her back while she scribbled on the chalk board, cringing at the sound of them hitting the parquet floors. She hated that she became some sort of referee during recesses when kids would come crying to her because they lost their favorite marble in a match. She hated them so much she would snatch them away from children at every chance. She was a Hungry Hungry Hippo.

One day, a friend of mine hauled his entire collection of marbles to school in a large plastic pail. While the children were queuing to enter the building, he shifted out of line to talk marbles with another kid in the line next to us. *SNAP! Shrieking incoherently, the teacher tore the bucket from his hand and launched it across the yard. Of course all the kids broke ranks, scrambling for my friend's marbles, me included. It was chicken feed for our souls and we pocketed those shiny multicoloured globes in a beggar's frenzy, but it was the culminating moment in a long saga that finally led to the school principal calling an emergency assembly.

There was no debate, marbles were to be banned. This was the decree and the teachers smiled smugly to themselves as we whined in astonishment. When everyone settled, the principal once again addressed the students. He asked if there were any comments – I had one.

“Sir,” I began, as I rose and stood on my seat. “I think this is unfair. On behalf of everyone who plays marbles in this school I beg you, please don’t ban them.” I was told to sit down. It made no difference. The assembly disassembled and we filed back to our classrooms as though heading for the gallows.

After school a group of us met in the street outside my house. Because of my oration earlier, I was chosen to lead a resistance. We devised a marketing strategy and drew posters on the sidewalk until well past when the streetlights came on and our parents began shouting from the windows. The next morning we posted flyers, circulated petitions in the classrooms and gave inspirational talks during recesses. We nagged our parents to call the principal and to help us write letters to the school board. We invented a secret language that quickly irradiated throughout the school. Teachers noticed that we were more distracted than before the marble ban. Now they could hardly understand what we were saying.

A month later another assembly was called. It was short. Marbles would be allowed again in the spring, with certain conditions. Our black-socked teacher nearly wept at the news. That was enough for us. We emptied into the halls pumping our fists in triumph.

Without knowing it I had begun my communications career. Having represented the interests of the marble-playing community, devised an awareness campaign and actively engaged my peers to democratically affect their school’s policies, I learned that I had an ability to communicate effectively and that epiphany has lasted through to today. As such, I can certainly say that I will always love communications…and marbles.