When I arrived at the little consolidated school where my Mother and aunts and uncles had gone, and my grandmother whom I would be living with until the end of the 9th grade, I was in the latter part of my 4th grade.
There was a blonde-haired girl named Olivia, 2 grades behind me. She decided she liked me, but of course I was more interested in the girls in the same grade.
But by my 8th grade, we both had crushes on each other, as I gradually understood that the girls in my grade were looking for older guys. There were still the parties, you know where the games call for you to go walking with a partner. And even if the 8th grade girl may be "going with" a 9th or 10th grader, you could still kiss, especially if you didn't tell.
By my 9th grade, Olivia would have been my steady except we weren't really dating. Going to basketball games in the bus was always quite fun, though - except when the bus driver was mean enough to turn on the lights.
In the 10th grade, I moved to Atlanta and finished school there, and then went to college, so Olivia and I went separate ways.
We were at that era when things were pretty innocent. The book Peyton Place had us whispering.
The duck tails were in, and Elvis was becoming King, and some guys wore the white Pat Boone suede shoes. And the '57 chevy was hot.
The next few years, in Atlanta, guys wore their collars up to signify going steady, and their was for a while a colorful kind of fitted leg kind of slacks that the guys were wearing. And the flap over a pocket was also worn up to signify you were "taken." And the girls wore a circular pin, that had a meaning (kind of).
Almost forgot, there were "short" shorts.
And guys were peroxiding their hair. I did all of it one time; then just part of it the next. I had a flat top, with a ducktail on the back.
The bop, the twist, and the stroll were big. "To Know Him is to Love Him was big."