THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, May 31, 1996 TAG: 9605310047
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY ALICIA LUMA HIGH SCHOOL, CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: 136 lines
ONE THING that I find unfair about being a homeschooler is having to pay for Driver's Ed - both classroom and behind-the-wheel. You either take it at a private driving school or pay to take it at a public school. (Public school students only pay for behind-the-wheel.) But, being a nearly 16-year-old girl, the itch to sit in the driver's seat outweighed the feelings of injustice.
So I made my momma call around and enroll me in a driving school.
There was a single determining factor: price. Old Dominion Driving School on Princess Anne Road was the cheapest at $185 for classroom and behind-the-wheel instruction.
I expected only to go to a driving school and learn to drive. I didn't expect to meet a driving instructor who, whether he realizes it or not, makes a bigger impact on his students than just helping them to get their license.
Proceed with caution
Two weeks before driving school started, some of my friends came by and talked about the school.
``You aren't going to Old Dominion are you?'' one friend said.
``Well, yes I am,'' I said.
``OOOH, you are in for it!'' said another, ``Mr. Lopez (the instructor) is insane. He'd sooner kick you out than let you pass. If you so much as talk out of turn he'll put you at The Desk. Then you go By The Door. Then you go Out The Door.''
I decided then I was going to be a really, really good student.
Drive defensively
My first impression - tiny, crowded and full of really bad poster projects. I then realized that I would be seeing this place on a regular basis (Monday through Thursday, 7 to 9 p.m., for four weeks) and spending much time with this Mr. Lopez guy. And that's exactly who he was Mr. Lopez. He should've changed his first name to Mister.
``OK,'' I thought, ``from what I've heard, this guy's a kook. But he also decides my grade, so I think I'll be nice.''
And so, I put on my pretty smile, walked up to the desk with my momma and signed away the next four weeks of my life.
``Find a seat,'' Mr. Lopez said. ``We'll start at a quarter after 7.'' I, picked the table with the most normal-looking people (once you pick a seat it's yours for the next four weeks). I suppose now that it was divine guidance because I ended up at the smart, relatively quiet group that had plenty of sarcasm and wit.
The rookie drivers
My table included Joe, a foreign-exchange student from Finland, who proved that Finnish humor is the worst. Stephanie, from Norview High, the most sarcastic of the group; Jenny, from Lake Taylor, who was my note-passing partner-in-crime; Rachel, who was so quiet that I don't know what her story is, and this other girl who missed most of the classes.
There were other assorted characters. There was the junk-food table, those who went from a six-pack of Twizzlers at first to the industrial size by the end, and who built soda-can towers to rival the Eiffel.
There was also the cute couple Mr. Lopez insisted on teasing, and the guy who we all knew wasn't going to pass.
This guy constantly did the exact opposite of whatever Mr. Lopez told him to do. (Rule No. 1 was ``Always listen to everything Mr. Lopez says, and you will live long and prosperous lives.'') When Mr. Lopez would give him some type of penance, like washing the tables, he would never, ever do it. He was just that kind of guy that you knew was oblivious to the way the world actually is, and who tries to do it his own way and never gets away with it.
Finally, it happened. One day we walked into class and asked Mr. Lopez why the guy was missing.
Mr. Lopez smiled and pointed toward the door.
The world according to Mr. Lopez
The first things you learn in this driving school have nothing to do with driving. You're told when not to come to class (sick, drunk or both), and when to talk and when not to talk.
You're told what will get you kicked out and you're informed of what color he sees when he looks at his students - green.
``Four of you make my car payment,'' he said, ``and another five make my house payment.''
He let us know that it would take ``a week to learn your names and 15 minutes after this session is over, I'll have forgotten them.''
But I still sensed that the kids were a little more than that to him.
Horror from behind the wheel
I will tell you bluntly that I was not a very good driver. Mr. Lopez would probably tell you that, too. I didn't love behind-the-wheel, nor was I one of the kids who begged Mr. Lopez to let them drive first.
Anyway, my first day of B.T.W. was in the middle of the third week of class. They pick you up at your house, and other students drive you around. When they picked me up, I actually had a conversation with Mr. Lopez about my father's lawn - almost golf course-like - and other nice things.
I got to thinking, ``Maybe this guy isn't as big a weirdo as I first thought.''
Then it was my turn behind the wheel.
My first driving assignment was on and around Battlefield Boulevard in Chesapeake, a place I am none too familiar with. A two-lane road with big ditches on either side stretched out endlessly before me.
Previously, I was scared. Now, I was t-terrified.
But then, it seemed, Mr. Lopez became this totally different person. He was helpful and reassuring and he didn't yell at me at all. I was truly surprised. I actually did pretty well for my third time ever behind the wheel. And I owe it all to him.
Within the next few driving lessons, I realized that I also had some interesting people in my car. There was Andy, who always ran a little late, forgot his permit and drove too fast because he was nervous. And there was Elijah, who has killer hair and a really laid-back, positive personality and is now my neat-o new friend. I actually had fun sitting in the car.
Then came horror from behind the wheel, part 2.
All I did was take a turn too fast.
OK, and so maybe the seat belts locked a little and, um, all right, some gravel flew, too. But it wasn't that bad.
Somehow, though, by class that night it had evolved into a hellish 360-degree nightmare that nearly cost the lives of the four people in the car. And it was one of my pals who reminded Mr. Lopez to tell his spruced-up version of the story at class. Thanks a lot.
And so it ends
There were numerous interesting things about driving class: that time I made the 360-degree turn, the horrid movies, the stupid textbooks, but all these pale in comparison to Mr. Lopez. The man is a legend among those who have taken his class and will not be easily forgotten.
There are also classmates who are forever impressed into my memory. Sometimes you see a former classmate at the mall and although only a small smile is passed between you, it is a knowing smile.
My final grades were A in classroom, B- in behind-the-wheel. More than enough to get the 10 percent insurance discount. Needless to say, my parents were pleased and I think I even caught a glimmer of pride in Mr. Lopez's eyes as he handed me my certificate.
Or it could have been sun glare.
I'll never know. MEMO: Alicia Luma is a homeschooled junior from Norfolk. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by Gary C. Knapp\The Virginian-Pilot
[Roy Lopez] by CNB