I went to the best middle school, like, ever. It was a GATE (gifted and talented education) school named Computech, and all the students there had to be accepted based on academic merit. I suspect there was a cultural/racial component to the admissions process as well, because it was a pretty diverse school located in a predominantly black part of town. This seeming duality – because in America “good school” and “black neighborhood” are not seen as naturally coexisting – gave the school an awesome character and a not-so-awesome reputation.
The perception of the school within the community was abundantly clear when I was asked, on more than one occasion, whether or not I had been “in a drive-by” while on campus. The people who asked this – because they weren’t just kids, either – always professed to have heard some story or other about kids in PE class having to “hit the ground” because of passing gunfire. This was patently ridiculous, as even the security guards who worked at the school were adamant that it was one of the safest in the city, but this impression of the school as a dangerous one persisted nonetheless.
Because of its strong academics, Computech attracted a large group of kids from the richer, whiter, northern part of Fresno despite the unfair reputation that plagued its neighborhood. The good thing about the school was that even the better-off white students came from families that were cool with their kids going to this school that was looked down upon by many in the city’s upper crust, despite the fact that it was academically superior to the rest of the middle schools in town. So while we were a diverse bunch, we clearly represented a much more accepting portion of the Fresno population.
All of this is important as background to the story of Computech and its legendary dances. When I hear about dances from other schools of that time, I can’t help but feel confused and saddened by how different other kids’ unfortunate experiences were. At Computech, we had after school dances which were casual, cheap to get into, and fun as fuck. They occurred monthly, which I took for granted at the time but now recognize as outside the norm, and the majority of the students regularly attended. They were held immediately after classes ended in the cafeteria on campus, and there were daily buses to take kids home at 4:30 after the dances finished, so it was as simple as possible for us to make it to them. You wrapped up 8th period, strolled over to the cafeteria with your friends, and hopped in line for a couple hours of bumping and grinding with your folks.
Well, not really bumping and grinding I guess. The chaperones were at least partially on top of that stuff and generally forbade the most explicit of it, but for the most part we were left to our own devices. The DJs always played a perfect mix of current R&B and hip hop designed to get you dancing in a circle with your friends and ignoring the opposite sex until the requisite slow song came on, at which point you giggled self consciously and, occasionally, paired off for three and a half minutes before the party resumed.
As someone who was used to being “the white girl” from an early age – whether on the playground more generally or on the basketball court specifically – this both was and was not my scene. I loved the music and the atmosphere, but dancing in front of my peers initially left me rather uneasy. Within the first hour of my first dance, though, I had mostly shed my inhibitions and learned to boogie with the best of them. On second thought, it was definitely not with the “best” of them, but I was able to hold my own and not be the laughing stock I was convinced I was. Or hell, maybe I really was a laughing stock. But that was the beauty of Computech – it didn’t even really matter. I genuinely enjoyed myself at each and every dance (except possibly during the slow songs, which I was entirely too shy to take advantage of), despite the fact that they should have been fear-inducing events for someone as introverted and awkward as I felt. The school, and my encouraging group of friends, taught me to join in and say “fuck it” to any potential haters. And in true Computech fashion, the haters were largely absent and completely irrelevant anyway.
I have amazing memories of arguing over which songs were “wack” (e.g., MC Hammer’s “Pumps and a Bump”) and which were worthy of being danced to (e.g., “This Is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan). I remember dancing my way into and out of various groups of kids, some of whom I knew and some I didn’t, but always ending up back with my core group of friends. I fondly recall losing my gotdamn mind every time “California Love” by Tupac came on, and pretending I could capably rap along to Left-Eye on TLC’s “Waterfalls.” We did the Tootsie Roll and Da Dip and danced to Ghost Town DJs before these youngsters made up their own version of the running man (get off my lawn). To this day, when I hear anything by Jon B, Soul for Real, or Ginuwine – dear god, Ginuwine – I am immediately transported back to that dark cafeteria.
Inevitably, the afternoon festivities would come to an end, and we would head back out into the real world with our ears ringing, carrying on strangely muffled conversations. Also inevitably, we would declare to each other, “The dance was fun, but the DJ sucked,” defying all reason for only god knows what purpose. Then we would climb on the bus and bob our heads all the way home, the way you continue swaying after you get out of the ocean or, in Fresno fashion, the wave pool (shouts to Wild Water Adventure). And while these dances were only a feature of my life for two years, the lessons and joy they imparted have stayed with me throughout my life. There is no room in my life for fear on the dance floor, even though it routinely cripples me in other arenas, and for that I am forever grateful. Apologies to all those DJs we dissed – you did not, in fact, suck, and you provided the soundtrack to some of my best moments. Long live hip hop and awkward middle schoolers, but most of all long live Computech. May your dances continue to be as glorious as your down-ass student body.
