Grading the groms: Some kids seek more than free rides

Thank goodness for school.

In late July and early August, just before the academic year began, Suis, which had been heavily trending with the middle and high school set for about a year, reached peak grom.

No matter which section in the lineup you tried, kids were everywhere. Underfoot. Flying in your face. Raining down on you, literally.

The situation recalled the invasion of the locusts in that middle school standard “The Good Earth,” by Pearl S. Buck.

All the old surfers were talking about it.

“What’s with all the groms? Has there been a population explosion?” asked Mark, a musician. Normally cheery and mellow, he was bleary-eyed with angst.

“There were, like, 15 of them, and they all paddled for every single wave,” he said, shaking his head.

We agreed that it would be funny, like antic spider monkeys doing aerials at the zoo, if only we didn’t have to share the cage. There’s no escaping the physical bounds of a surf spot.

Even before school started, however, I had begun to realize there were variations on the theme.

In other words, there are groms and there are groms.

There are the 8- to 11-year-old minigroms jamming to outdo one another on every ride, chirping about barrels, 360s, aerials, closeouts and wipeouts with equal glee. During lulls they sit far inside and reminisce about winter sessions at Backdoors “when we were small.”

Often I find myself competing for rights with the scary, pitiless grom with pale blue eyes whom I think of as Frodo — the dark Frodo obsessed by the ring — in his case, that ring of water known as the tube.

Frodo is followed by a jeering sidekick who, apart from being hobbit size with curly hair, bears no resemblance to the stalwart, big-hearted Sam.

A welcome contrast is 12-year-old Pippin: Quick and aware, he makes sure no wave goes to waste and has been a patient companion and baby sitter for Merry, 8, since the latter was a 5-year-old being pushed onto waves by his dad.

On the eve of school, as peak grom peaked, I noticed Legolas, the tall, thin 15-year-old with the long, platinum hair and a black, long-sleeved wet suit, sitting well outside. He appeared to be drifting, staring up at the clouds.

“Do you think they’ll ban ‘Pokemon Go’ at school?” he asked his pals.

“Whaddayah think? Of course they’re gonna ban it,” they said.

Legolas gave a languid sigh. Just then a big, perfect right rolled in, and he hopped on it, his silvery locks flying straight out behind.

Knowing how all-consuming surfing was for me at that age (and now), and that few schools have surf teams that give you credit for your time, I didn’t have high academic hopes for the groms.

So I was surprised, in mid-autumn, to hear the group discussing report cards out at Suis.

“What’d you get, Dash?” his buddies asked.

“All A’s — and a B,” Dash replied.

“Was the B in math?” they asked. “What did your parents say?”

In high school I was a good student, although I might have done better if I hadn’t surfed. Although I had family on the East Coast, I went to college in California, planning to surf all year. I miscalculated: This was Northern California, where the sea is deadly cold and teeming with kelp and great white sharks.

The other day, out at Suis, I heard a familiar sweet voice call out, “Hi, Auntie Mindy!” It was my nephew Kainalu, 19, paddling past with a couple of friends.

A talented musician and surfer, he’s worked cleaning restaurant exhaust vents by night and is now bussing tables — jobs that leave him some day time to surf.

The other night at dinner, Kainalu surprised me by saying he hoped to move to the Bay Area someday. Hawaii, he’d realized, was so small.

I was relieved to hear it. As my grandfather always said, “Make use of these opportunities before it’s too late.”

Kainalu knows he won’t be surfing in the Bay Area. He’ll miss it, but the waves will be here when he comes back.

“In the Lineup” features Hawaii’s oceangoers and their regular hangouts, from the beach to the deep blue sea. Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com or call 529-4772.