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Lamar Middle School

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Lamar Middle School

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Lowest grade taught: 6th Grade - Highest grade taught: 8th Grade

Address: 6201 Wynona Ave, Austin, TX 78757, USA
Phone: (512) 414-3217
State: Texas
Zip Code: 78757


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Reviews
lamar sux go to kealing lol
10 years ago (05-01-2017)
From what I hear it is amazing but the teachers of the advanced classes are really mean
10 years ago (30-01-2017)
On my first day at Lamar Junior High I noticed that the building sat in a hole so that its roof was at the same level as Burnet Road. As I walked down the sidewalk, full of trepidation, a big burly 9th-grader turned back to me and said, "You know what this is, kid? This is hell!" That wasn't what I needed to hear in that moment of uncertainty, but it proved a fitting summary of my academic life for the next three years. I wasn't athletic, and my clumsiness invited the cruel derision of my classmates, and nobody is as cruel as a junior high school student. To make matters worse, my mentally absent parents didn't bother to teach me about hygiene, not did any health or Sex Ed class, so, left to my own devices, I stank. The coach said I smelled like a library, but I was too lost to see the hint. I was lucky enough to get seventh-grade algebra, but funding cutbacks meant an eighth grade spent doing tedious long division. I often sicked out on P.E. days, and one day my torturess in long division asked me about my frequent absence, then she answered her own question, "You're sick a lot, huh?" "Yeah," I said, taking the easy, non-assertive way out, but what I should have said was that I was constantly bullied gym class and that her math class, such as it was, bored the tar out of me. Though bright, I wasn't particularly motivated by any of my classes, and one of my teachers tutted my ninth-grade academic under-performance because it was, technically, my first year of high school. I didn't understand how I could be in high school when I was still in that subterranean hell, nor did I understand that I was being told useful information after it mattered--it was like one of those MMORPGs where the first object of the game was to discover the object of the game. I was lucky enough to find friends who wrote crazy creative books filled with dazzling illustrations cut from magazines, fragments of writing, bits of lyrics, and incongruous passages from The Odyssey and Jim Morrison's poetry. I found a librarian who refused to be shocked (as my mother would've been had she seen the movie) by the LSD visuals of the Beatles animated feature, Yellow Submarine, and I worked in her library, mending books, and I enjoyed being part of that little community of book-living students. I had my first crush on one. Blaming is deceptive, and it lies when it says that those in power could have made things better somehow, that this great waste of three years could have been avoided. Most of what I learned in that period I taught myself from books, and fortunately I had discovered sources of cheap books. But in retrospect, I think the angst, bullying, cruelty, boredom, and discontent is an inescapable existential reality of the human condition. Puberty is hell, no matter the pedagogy under which it's experienced. Lamar had a school song which, in an effort to indoctrinate us with nationalism and patriotism, we had to sing at the end of assemblies. The first line went, "Oh hail to Lamar Junior High," and at the end of one assembly I sang my bowdlerized version so loudly--"Oh HELL to Lamar Junior High..."--that the vice principal pinpointed me and looked at me, but I started right back into that old bastard's eyes. He was a heavy wielder of the paddle, for we had corporal punishment in those days, but he did not call me out. I think he knew it was hell too.
10 years ago (17-11-2016)
YOUR MASCOT IS A BRAND OF TOILET PAPER AND BTW im a minor
10 years ago (03-04-2017)
Not sure why it's only rated 3.3
9 years ago (10-08-2017)
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