Teenage Wasteland: A Tale of Three Tyler’s

By Leonard “Lemon” Johnson

Part 1: The Tyler’s Two

The verbal and mental abuse suffered by Tyler Campbell was due, in fact, to a wonderfully tragic event of mistaken identity. It was no fault of Tyler’s that his mom and dad, fourteen years earlier, had picked “Tyler” as an acceptable name for their future beloved middle child son.

Tyler had no voting rights or input in the naming process as goes with unborn children. And while both you and I, Lemon Johnson, your narrator, and author, might assume that a classic case of mistaken identity resulting in verbal and mental abuse is fiction—a assure you this is no tall tale. Nor is this the ramblings of Tyler Campbell, a middle-aged man, who told this tale to tarnish the good names of Tyler Rockingham and Tyler Towers many years later. This wonderfully tragic event is as real as the earth is round for some or flat for others: Comme ci, comme ça. For you see, it wasn’t Tyler’s fault that his best friend’s name was Tyler too. Nor was it Tyler’s fault that the future superstar High School quarterback was named Tyler. And, it was most certainly not the future superstar High School quarterback’s fault that his father was the head coach of the very same team in which the superstar High School quarterback, Tyler Towers, was elected as starting quarterback. All three Tyler’s were unwilling participants in this wonderfully tragic event.

Tyler Campbell’s freshman year was mostly uneventful, absent of the typical bullying by a loving senior classman every once in a while. That was to be expected in the early 90s. A decade earlier, Tyler Campbell had befriended Tyler Rockingham after they met at Roadrunner Roller Rink, a fully operational roller rink in the South Valley that still served Slurpee’s, imitation cheese nachos, and licorice rope. That fateful meeting led to a fully developed best friend situation for both Tyler Campbell and Tyler Rockingham. The fact that both Tyler C and Tyler R shared the same name was no problem. As a matter of scientific fact, the two Tyler’s learned to distinguish their names simply by the inflection of the person calling out, “Tyler, come here!” For example, Tyler C’s mom might pronounce Tyler by accenting the Ty. Whereas Tyler R’s mom might accent the er in just a certain way, it was clear to Tyler and Tyler who was being called upon. This gift is not dissimilar to that extraordinary ability twins have when inventing their own spoken language.

The Tyler’s Two became inseparable over time, and their reputation became that of “The Tyler’s.” Just as you might say you’re going to the “Smith’s” house for dinner, the Tyler’s morphed into one unit. If Tyler C or Tyler R had another friend who wanted to come and play Vietnam in the backyard of Tyler’s R’s house, that friend had the implied understanding that when making such a request of his parent, he simply need to ask, “Mom, may I go play with The Tyler’s?” It was implied that when you play Vietnam or Dungeons and Dragons with one Tyler, you get both. That was a serious BOGO situation and good for all parties involved.

The Tyler’s Two attended middle school together and strengthened their bond from friendship to brotherhood. While there were a few other “Tyler’s” floating around Lincoln Middle School’s halls, it was crystal clear to all the other students and “Tyler’s” that the Tyler’s Two operated as a single operational unit. Tyler Campbell, the teller of this true tale, who told me this story some time ago, was the introverted one— he was a bit timid around girls and new people. He was quiet and had no real need or desire to seek additional friends, as Tyler R served that role perfectly. Tyler R was extroverted, a smidge more popular and well-liked by all classmates at Lincoln. By proxy, all of Tyler R’s friends were, in fact, Tyler C’s friends. BOGO. It was definitely a good situation for all parties involved.

Of the three or four other “Tyler’s” at Lincoln Middle School, Tyler Towers was the most notable as he was athletic and popular by middle school standards. Whenever the three Tyler’s crossed paths during those early days of teenage life, it was a nice and pleasant experience.

Highschool. 1991. The USSR came to an end that year. The Hubble Space Telescope was launched into space with its primary mirror out of focus, and the Bulls beat the Lakers in the Championships. Jordan was god, Home Alone premiered, and Mariah Carey was just beginning to sizzle the radio waves. All in all, it was a good year. The Tyler’s Two graduated middle school with little fanfare and moved on to Valley River High School. Tyler Campbell and Tyler Rockingham were not the only Tyler’s at VRHS that year. Tyler Towers enrolled too. His father, Coach Towers, replaced the previous head coach that same year. Coach Towers was also the 9th-grade biology teacher. I, too, was enrolled at VRHS. However, I was a senior classman, and the happenings and going-ons of incoming freshmen were of no consequence to me. I was busy with my schoolwork, and more importantly, preparing for the state Rubik’s Cube competition for which I would be the returning champion.

Valley River High School was no different than the typical high schools of this era. It was, however, an unusually large school with an attendance greater than any other school in the Albuquerque School District. Predominantly a Hispanic community, Tyler C and Tyler R were “gringos” as the locals would say. However, they had accepted their station in life and thought nothing of it other than the occasional run-ins with other students who wanted to point out they were, indeed, of Caucasian descent with pasty white/pink skin. In the 90s, though, this was of no real concern to anyone.

Because of VRHS’s massive student enrollment, there were two lunch periods. Lunch A was immediately following the 3rd period. It was far too early in the day to eat cardboard pizza covered with high fructose corn syrup laced ketchup. Lunch B was perfect for said cardboard meal as it was more around the mid-noon time. The first act in this wonderfully tragic event was the day some unassuming school administrator picked up Tyler C’s student file and placed him in Lunch A, while Tyler R’s schedule had him at the highly coveted Lunch B. Lunch B seemed to hold within its grasp all of the senior class students and most of the cooler and more popular students from other grades. I, of course, being both popular AND a senior high student, had been eating cardboard during Lunch B since my freshman year.

The Tyler’s Two were devastated when they discovered they would not each lunch together during their first high school year. The schedule gods had played a mean and nasty trick on them, separating the inseparable. It could only be likened to that first moment when conjoined twins are surgically separated and awake from their anesthesia-induced comas to find their mirror self on another recovery bed. It felt unnatural and out of place. Tyler Campbell was alone during Lunch A while Tyler Rockingham basked in the glorious Lunch B timeslot. The sun was brighter, the grass was greener, the birds chirped louder and the food was fresher at Lunch B. He was much more apt to integrate with other students absent of his best friend and brother, Tyler C. For you see, Tyler R was sociable and well-liked by all, while Tyler C was inept at making new friends or even conversing in a non-awkward way with the opposite sex, or really any sex, come to think of it. Tyler Rockingham was the go-between for all social events and occasions. Tyler Campbell was no more a blind beggar sitting by the pool of Bethesda hoping for some weary soul to come by and take pity on him. But there were no handouts for him. He was left desolate and lonely without his soul mate, brother, and best friend.

Though he certainly lamented for his non-biological twin, Tyler Rockingham was able to jump right in during Lunch B and carry on as any normal student would give the circumstances. Over time, he even met a few new friends. One, in particular, caught his eye as she was a beautiful girl named Cristine Griego. Cristine had sandy blond hair, freckles and wore braces as was the times’ dental fashion. She was a kind and unassuming girl who was liked by all. Tyler R and Cristine G developed a friendship during Lunch B. Tyler C was left to watch this budding romance from afar. He was happy that his best friend and brother had found love but wished he could watch the love between this young man and woman grow from a closer vantage point. It was not to be. Tyler C was stuck in lunch purgatory.

All the while the above events were taking place, Tyler Towers had been selected as the starting quarterback of the VRHS Roadrunners. If this selection was made solely due to his ability to throw a pigskin and call plays OR if it was due to the individual who wielded the power to make this selection, I, your narrator and author does not know. For I am ignorant in the ways of sports and athletics. I have always considered myself an artist and thinker, not a barbarian who adorns a helmet and pads to rush an opponent headlong for the sake of a touchdown.

As Tyler T’s fame grew due to his station in life as starting quarterback, the boys and girls of VRHS noticed. While he had been an above-average student and decently popular at Lincoln Middle School, high school life was different. He had hit the preverbal jackpot. He was a jock and loved by all. He was also a decent-looking guy with a nice smile and friendly disposition. It was a good situation for all involved—that is until Tyler Towers took notice of Cristine Griego.

There you have it! The Tale of Three Tyler’s was taking shape. As I write this and you read this, I’m curious if you are beginning to see how this story will be both wonderful and tragic. I doubt you have discovered the wonder of this. I’m fairly sure you might see the coming tragedy. For this will end with tragedy for one out of three Tyler’s. Tyler Campbell, Tyler Rockingham, and Tyler Towers were about to have a wonderfully tragic case of mistaken identity.

 

Part 2: A Stern Rebuke

The following paragraphs, though only a few, in reality, developed over several weeks. Tyler Rockingham loved Cristine with the vigor and vitality of any other freshman. It was a fleeting love but felt real. However, the gravitational forces surrounding Tyler Towers were powerful. Wherever he walked, people were drawn to him just as a celestial frozen rock hurling through outer space is drawn into the grasp of a giant gaseous planet not unlike Jupiter or Saturn. And, as you now expect and without surprise know, Cristine was caught in it. She was beginning to orbit Tyler Towers, and she could no longer escape the inevitability that she would come crashing into the surface of his loving arms. Tyler R was beginning to see this cosmic event taking place before him. His heart broke with the possibility that he would lose Cristine to another Tyler…or another anyone.

Tyler C was still stuck in Lunch A and only knew of the events taking place during Lunch B when The Tyler’s Two would leave school for the day riding home with one of their older 12th-grade siblings. It was in these car rides home that Tyler C tried his best to comfort Tyler R’s breaking heart. While this heartfelt empathy from Tyler C was appreciated, Tyler R was beginning to transition from a heart-broken teenager to a budding ex-boyfriend with a vengeance on his mind.

“I need revenge.” Tyler R told Tyler C.

“I think you should let it go. Nothing good will come of making enemies of Towers. Not only will you have to contend with him, but you’ll also make enemies of his adoring fans, and more importantly, Coach Towers.” Tyler C said in hopes of talking sense into his best friend. This advice was not received with the enthusiasm Tyler C was hoping for. As was anticipated by Tyler C, Cristine G broke up with Tyler R and transitioned to Tyler T’s awaiting biceps.

On a cold January day, just like any other cold January day, Tyler R was sitting with a group of friends after their cardboard lunch discussing the events that had taken place in the proceeding weeks regarding Cristine and Tyler. Tyler R had made friends with “The Rockers,” a group of students who wore old Slayer t-shirts, listened to thrash metal, and also had straight A’s. These stereotyped bad boys would go onto to become successful professionals in various fields of study. I, your narrator and author, remember these rockers as I was friends with a few myself. They were useful in a pinch due to their menacing looks. They were good guys who liked loud music but were never given too much drink or drugs. In them, Tyler R found loyal confidants who sided with his plight in taking revenge on Tyler T.

The boys tried to think of various ways to take revenge without causing any kind of bodily or lasting harm. These rockers were mostly peaceful boys who only sought to look scary and dangerous. If not for their fascination of metal gods like Ozzy, Lemmy, Dio and Eddie, they would most likely have been your average school-dwelling nerds listening to whatever non-rockers listened to in the late 80s and early 90s and who took their education more seriously than most. After much discussion and 99 bad ideas, one of these faux-bad boys had the idea that Tyler R simply talk a little trash about Tyler T, and then moves on with life.

As you are well aware by now, Tyler C, still stuck in Lunch A, agreed with the rocker’s idea as this was the least dangerous way of having some semblance of revenge for Tyler R to move on with life.

And so, the following day, during Lunch B, and without Tyler C at his side, Tyler R confronted Tyler T and Cristine G after all the students had finished their cardboard meals. They retired to the large cottonwood tree in the center of the outdoor courtyard.

Tyler R approached Tyler T with his pentagram shirt-wearing friends in tow. Upon the arrival of the cottonwood tree, it became apparent to all involved that an altercation of some sort was about to take place. Whereas many scraps had broken out beneath this particular cottonwood tree, this day would not end with punches and bloody lips. Instead, it would end with harsh words of rebuke and disgust on Tyler R’s part directed at Tyler T and Cristine G. There would be no fight that day.

Tyler C was not in attendance and to this day does not remember the exact wording expressed by Tyler R to Tyler T. Nor was I, your narrator and author, in attendance during this altercation as I was most likely practicing my latest algorithm for solving a Rubik’s cube in under 10 seconds. But any adult who grew up as a high school student in the early d90s can plug in various descriptive name callings, curse words, and the wild waving of hands in disgust. Tyler R made it clear how he felt about Tyler T’s stealing of his girlfriend and his contempt for Cristine’s callous betrayal. Words were spoken, but no blows of knuckle on face were given. There was some raising of voices and an F-bomb here and there. After Tyler R said his peace, the parties agreed to disagree. They parted ways, and is usually the case with schoolyard disagreements for centuries, moved on with life.

 

Part 3: The Teenage Wasteland

The Tyler’s Two began to move on with life. Tyler R was already talking with a cute girl with a beautiful smile and infectious personality only days later. Tyler T and Cristine continued their love affair with both attending Homecoming together. And Tyler C was still stuck in Lunch A learning how to navigate life without his best friend and life-mate.

As all bad stories begin with the following two words, I, your narrator and author, can think of no better way to say…

Then one day…

Tyler C was sitting in 3rd-period biology class on the second floor of the science building. He had made a new friend after being assigned to a science lab table with Josie. She was a kind and popular girl who probably took pity on Tyler C’s social awkwardness. Sitting at the dark black hard top of the science table, they awaited the day’s assignment. Tyler C’s teacher, as you now have guessed, was the head coach of the VRHS Roadrunners Football Team. He would usually come into class tired from the previous night’s late evening practice during football season. He was a decent teacher. Easy going and smart, he was short and round with dark hair and wore those transition lens glasses there were always dark until you walked into a room. As Tyler’s biology teacher, he was effective. As head coach, he was mostly effective too. And as Tyler Towers’ dad, he was a loving protector as all fathers should be.

The science classrooms were designed so students would enter from an outside hall through the front of the class. That is where the green chalkboard was positioned along with a podium for the teacher to lecture from. Coach Towers entered the classroom from the rear as teacher’s desks were in the back. There was a restricted area that connected all the science classrooms together. This is the magical place where the teachers kept science supplies and other artifacts used in students’ high school education.

That day’s class started something like this, “Good morning students, please turn to page 78 and work on questions 1, 3, 5, and 7. Don’t cheat by looking at the answers in the back until we’ve had some time to discuss cell proteins and membranes.” Coach Towers said. Even as a biology teacher, he still had his students call him Coach.

He began to walk back towards the rear of the class, where his desk located. “Oh, Mr. Campbell, will you join me?” he said without emotion or intentions of this invite.

Now, you must understand that the following narrative was told to me by Tyler himself, many years after the events I am writing of. We re-connected and became friends due to our church bowling league. It was more than 20 years later, to be exact. The chance meeting came by way of my church’s bowling team, The Holy Rollers, competing against his church’s bowling team, The Saintly Strikers. We quickly recognized each other and spent the remainder of Monday evening rolling balls and reminiscing about the old days at VRHS.

It went something like this:

“Hey Leonard, does anyone still call you Lemon?” Tyler asks.

I smirked, “Just guys from the old days. Though I’ve been thinking about using it for my publications.”

“You’re a writer now?” he asks with genuine interest.

Another smirk on my part, “I’m an aspiring writer. I was stuck in the classifieds for years at the Journal, but I recently got a shot at the opinions page. They liked my second story about the time I met Simon Bailey when we were still kids in the Rubik’s Cube competitions.” I definitely named drop the child prodigy, Simon Bailey, who worked for the CIA while he was still in high school!

“Yeah, I remember hearing something about that when he wrote his autobiography a few years ago. Very cool!” Tyler exclaimed.

It was nice meeting him that day and talking about the old days. I made a remark about “the good old days” and he laughed.

“Are you kidding? You remember what happened to me Freshman year?”

I, of course, had heard the ramblings of a story about a kid who accused Coach Towers of verbal and mental abuse, but I never thought much of it.

“Well, sort of. But I really don’t know any details.” said I.

“Then I have a story for you!” said he.

That’s all it took to uncork the bottle of bubbly that was building in him. He obviously wanted to retell this story, and so I sat and listened intently as any excellent aspiring newspaperman should.

And so, Tyler Campbell, twenty years later, told it exactly like this:

“I stood up, totally unaware of what this was all about. I mean, I’m the quiet kid who doesn’t want to cause any trouble unless trouble comes my way. Sure, then I’ll do what I have to do, but that day, I thought nothing of it. Though, I was very nervous.

“I walked up to him, and he proceeds to escort me to that room that connects all the classrooms where they stored the chemicals and dead baby pigs in plastic bags with formaldehyde. You remember dissecting those?” he asks.

I nod.

He continues, “Anyway, he invites me to this backroom area. I walk in, and he shuts the door to our classroom behind him. I stare in complete and total amazement at being in the inner sanctum or the science teacher’s universe. It was so cool in there. I saw jars full of foreign substances, Bunsen burners, measuring devices, embalmed baby pigs, filing cabinets. It was like being in the holy of holies.

“He sat me down at a long table just like the tables we shared with other students in the classroom. He was quiet but still offered no clue as to why the invitation into this strange place.

“He sat across from me, rubbed the 5 o’clock shadow that he always had the said, “Tyler, do you know why you’re here?” with zero emotion and a total lack of human facial response. It was like starring into a black hole of humanity.

“I thought about this question. I considered every possibility as to why I was sitting across from my biology teacher. Was it because I was failing? Of course not. I knew I had a solid C+ grade average in the class. Was it because of how I was dressed? I had begun wearing the heavy metal t-shirts that Tyler R’s new friends wore and, by osmosis, were now my friends. But my shirt only said “RUSH” with a flying owl below it. No pentagrams or anything else overly satanic. I hadn’t a clue as to why I was there, “No, sir.” I said respectfully. Whenever I got nervous, I tended to become more respectful as often times abused people do. I’m not sure of the psychology behind that phenomenon. I mean, someone could be downright nasty, but there was something inside that turned on this weird “polite” switch when in reality, I should have been getting angry as to the strange circumstance of this student/teacher meeting. Nowadays, you take a student into the backroom without a witness, and someone is going to jail!

I nod in semi-agreement.

“Then, for the first time, his face and muscles began to contort. He leaned towards me and made two fists. He slammed those newly formed fearfully large fists on the hard blacktop lab table, “You liar. You know exactly what you did. How dare you say the things you did about my son! You are a little piece of shit who knows nothing and is nothing. You are a jealous loser. I mean, just look at you! The only way you knew how to try and hurt my son was to spread lies about him and Cristine.”

“I was in complete and total shock. I didn’t know what to say. I was truly and absolutely speechless. I did my best to utter something, but no sounds would emit from my voice box. I was frozen in fear as he continued to berate me with ugly slurs, hateful lies, and at one point, threatened physical harm towards me.”

My eyes opened about 20 percent more in shock.

As Tyler Campbell was retelling this story to me, your narrator and author, I remember thinking he was making this up. But the longer he talked, the more emotional and passionate he became. And it was in such a way that I remember distinctly thinking you can’t just make this up on the spot!

Tyler continued, “And then, as one does, my survival instincts kicked in, and my brain did a funny thing. It took me far away from that horrible place. The holy of holies had gone from a place of heavenly scientific curiosities and trinkets to a teenage wasteland that to this day only brings back hurtful memories. I never wanted to be in a place like that again.

“I started thinking about trading baseball cards with my neighborhood friends. I was then riding my BMX bike to the Circle K with Tyler for an afternoon Slurpee run. I was magically transported to my grandfather’s favorite catfish honey spot. My point is, my brain wanted me anywhere other than that wasteland where all the classrooms converged.

I shook my head in total agreement.

“After what seemed an eternity, he made one last comment before dismissing me back to class, “And if you even think about telling someone about today, don’t forget who I am and who you are. I am Coach. You are no one. And no one will believe you—and no one cares about who you are.”

When all was said and done that day at the bowling alley, the best description he could muster was this: belittlement. He felt belittled. He was made into something that was now nothing. He felt empty and confused. He was afraid he would be expelled even though he still had no idea why these accusations were being hurled against him. As he walked back to his desk, months later, Josie remembers Tyler was as “white as a ghost” and unable to speak in clear sentences for the remainder of the class.

 

Part 4: A Wonderful and most Tragic Conclusion

As goes with tragedy and shock, it takes a while to fully comprehend what led to such emotions. For Tyler C, it took the remainder of that day and into the evening. He was unable to tell Tyler R what happened due to shock. He didn’t even put all the clues together until the 6th period. It hit like an anvil on the head of a coyote falling from a cliff. The whole thing was a case of mistaken identity! Of course, Coach Towers heard his son regale him of how Tyler had said all the horrible things about him and his new love, Cristine. However, Tyler Towers neglected to do something terribly important for his story’s context: he didn’t use surnames. And somehow, and in some weird way, Coach Towers assumed it was Tyler Campbell, the least popular Tyler of all Tyler’s, not Tyler Rockingham, who was responsible for the stern tongue-lashing directed towards Tyler T and Cristine G. Even worse, instead of letting the boys work it all out the way it has been done for centuries on the schoolyard, Coach Towers took it upon himself to exact his revenge on behalf of his son with Tyler Campbell as his target. It most certainly had its effect.

By the end of the day, Tyler’s sister knew something was wrong. She poked and prodded until he could no longer keep the day’s event bottled up under a tightly sealed cork. She always knew how to get him to talk. So, he spilled the beans so-to-speak.

She was, as expected, outraged. As the Senior Class Student Body President, she thought of ways to use her school governmental powers for his good and Coach Tower’s demise. Tyler shared the day’s events to his parents with his sister by his side. However, it didn’t have the wanted effect. Perhaps he was unable to get them to grasp the severity of the situation. And, as might be expected, the situation was bad for all parties involved.

The following day, Tyler made an appointment with his school counselor as recommend by The President. He told the counselor of everything that happened. Tyler had spent the night prior rehearsing precisely what and how he would communicate to his counselor with his sister coaching him along the way. He nailed it! It had everything: suspense, detailed descriptions, days, dates, times, places, and a three-act plot that concluded with a bombshell of an ending. What Tyler didn’t count on, nor did his sister, was that the school counselor, being the Assistant Coach for the VRHS football team and close friend to Coach Towers, would say exactly what you or I would say in his shoes:

“Well Mr. Campbell, it’s your word against his. Do you have proof? Did anyone else hear this?”

Of course, no one heard! That’s why Coach Towers took Tyler into the teenage wasteland of a storage room. It was his word against a beloved and respected teacher and coach.

As bad stories go, sometimes there exists just a sliver of silver lining buried deep within. You see, Tyler’s school counselor did offer a solution. He immediately took Tyler out of Coach Towers’ biology class and placed him in a different class during a different period. Because of this class schedule shuffle, the school counselor also had to change Tyler C’s lunch hour from Lunch Abhorrent to Lunch Bliss.

The next day, Tyler C stood up as he heard the 4th-period bell ring to make his way to lunch for his cardboard pizza. As he was walking towards the cafeteria, Tyler R saw him from a distance and came running to see his best friend and life-mate. The Tyler’s Two were reunited and were never to be separated again for the remainder of high school.

Tyler C experienced verbal and mental abuse at the hands of someone who should have been a protector and educator. I, your narrator and author, have taught a few classes over the years, and I considered it my God-given duty to love and support my students. Coach Towers didn’t see it that way. He abused far more than Tyler. He abused his power.

And so, as all good stories must end, I leave you with this parting question: Have you ever experienced something like this? Abuse at the hands of someone with all the power? I’m sure you have to some extent. I have a theory about it. I think that every tragedy has a little wonder buried deep, deep inside. At least a tiny bit. If Tyler were writing this, I believe he would want me to tell you this: Terrible things happen all the time. It’s usually not fair and almost always undeserving. But even amid something as terrible as the verbal and mental abuse by a bad-seed teacher, you may still end up at Lunch B with your best friend by your side.

It was a wonderfully tragic event.