Last week's photographs of the USA Regional Gymnastics Championships in Whitefish brought back memories of my days as a gymnast.

Yes, I once maneuvered on a balance beam and did my moves on the uneven bars. Before you double over in laughter, let me explain.

Calling myself a gymnast at any point in my life would be a stretch, perhaps an outright lie. But for one long agonizing semester in Mrs. Anderson's sophomore physical-education class, that's what we all were.

There weren't many athletic opportunities for teenage girls in the early 1970s, so when we got brand new gymnastics equipment, most people were thrilled. Mrs. Anderson, who seemed about 80 years old when we had her, put together a gymnastics team (which didn't include me) and was relentless in her pursuit to turn all of us into the likes of Olga Korbut, the Russian gymnast who inspired thousands of young girls to take up the sport after she won three gold medals at the 1972 Olympics.

And so, athletic or not, graceful or not, enthusiastic or not, we muddled through Mrs. Anderson's regimen. Class time was divided evenly to give us an opportunity to try everything, the balance beam, uneven and even bars, the horse and floor exercise.

I wasn't good at any of them.

We practiced so much that to this day, I can still remember every move of the mandated uneven-bar routine. By the time Mrs. Anderson was done with us, we could do those routines in our sleep.

Those of us who were less athletically inclined secretly loathed the few graceful classmates who twirled with ease, the ones who were called upon to demonstrate new moves, the ones who were the apples of Mrs. Anderson's cold, glaring eye. Let the record show that Mrs. Anderson was too old herself to climb on the bars and demonstrate anything.

We all felt Debbie Glende's pain when she fell off the high bar. She was the biggest girl in class, and watching her push her pudgy body through the routine was in some way excruciating. She landed flat on her back, falling from a sitting position on the top bar, and we all gasped as she struggled to get her breath back.

The ultimate humiliation was yet to come, though. Mrs. Anderson got her hands on what I believe was the first video recorder ever sold and taped each girl's routines as the entire class watched. Then we watched the tape in class.

These are the kinds of things therapy sessions are made of.

But you'll be glad to hear I passed gymnastics that year and didn't have too many recurring nightmares.

These days, I enjoy watching gymnastics. It's one of my favorite events when the Summer Olympics roll around. I probably would have liked watching the sport just as much without ever having tried gymnastics myself. But maybe, just maybe it was Mrs. Anderson's class that makes me appreciate the sport as much as I do.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com