2001-04-02 - 15:56 MDST

THE WONDERING JEW

SCHOOL

My first learning experiences were the ones with my Mother and Dad, polished by cousins and playmates hubris and teasing.

I remember a few teachers I had in formal school, some of the very best ones I think. My first grade teacher, elderly, thin, gray haired and downright ugly. Ugly at least to a first grade boy's eyes. But, oh what a start she gave me in life. Teaching for one thing the beauty of striving to gain knowledge and the perfection that can be obtained in some activities.

Miss McKittrick, third grade I think, very down to earth kindly person, who took no guff, but was a cheerful and efficient teacher who enabled a person to have self respect.

Mrs. Hollander, fifth grade. She was a stylishly garbed person, impeccably clothed and coiffed, nails polished and neatly trimmed with manners and actions to match. She for one thing taught us what "Classy" really meant. She had immediate respect from us by her very presence. We learned from her, I guess, partly because of our thirst for knowledge and also because none of us boys or girls dreamed of letting her down by being dumb.

In Junior high I was able to see both sides of the coin

My Industrial Arts teacher (shop) enabled me to learn how to use tools and actually do something with them, something we were proud to take home and tell our Mom and Dad, "I made this for you." His teaching and manner gained our liking and respect.

Mrs. Walters, a heavy set, busty, somewhat homely lady, our math teacher, she had the patience to put up with us teeners and still be good natured enough to lead us down the mathematical yellow brick road.

My Latin teacher, a dried up, prissy, better than thou type person, who put up with the girls. I think though, her dislike of the male of the species was shown because no boy made a passing grade in her class. Never did figure out how she got that past the administrators at the school.

C. E. Armstrong, a substitute teacher was the first teacher who could or would answer my "why" questions. In the field of mathematics, it was not an easy thing to do for a dumb kid, but he helped me realize it was possible for this foggy kid to learn a bit. His time spent with me and his math demonstrations led to the answers to my "why" questions and making things a bit clearer.

Mrs. Wilson, my English teacher, who spent her after hours trying to help me overcome all the language instruction I missed by being a year out of elementary school and then being skipped ahead to be with my classmates. The lady who cried as she handed me my "D" report card, and gave me a quick hug and said something like, "You'll make it you know."

In Junior high school I met the first teachers who just didn't like kids, in fact one of them on the first day of class in his room stated so and dared anyone to misbehave or disagree with anything he said. Funny thing - - I just can't remember what the hell he taught. All I can remember is his bottled up anger toward the world in general.

High School was a split thing as we moved and I went to another high school.

My first high school.

I remember the Army sergeant who acquainted us with discipline, drill and learning all the rules in our ROTC class.

I definitely remember the coach who didn't like any boy if he wasn't a jock -- we were scum to be pushed out of his way.

I remember our Assistant Principal, Mr. Miller. As I lived in a haze of confusion and rebellion we met frequently and began to respect each other. It got to the point that when I was sent to his office for an alleged infraction, he would basically ask me, "Did you do that ?" He would accept a, "No" as being the truth and with a. "Yes," from me would mete out the appropriate punishment which I would dutifully accept.

In my second high school also had an army sergeant in charge of ROTC, a man who was expert and ethical as the one in my first h.s.

I had a teacher of German by a name like Westhaver who enabled me to think in German, which wasn't easy to pound into my grammer stupid skull. A really nice, late middle age person who was liked and respected by the class and in return I think she liked us and gave us all, her respect.

There was a woman, I don't dignify by the name of teacher, whose name is lost in a fog of my dislike. She was our geometry teacher and every class period we would hear about ESP, mental telepathy, experiences of meeting those from the after life, yadda, yadda, yadda. We really wouldn't have minded if she had just given us a passing grade in her what she laughingly called a Geometry class. The trouble was she would give us a weekly test, which we all failed miserably.

I remember a Mr. McGlone who stood up for me when I was in trouble for back talking to a teacher who had verbally attacked a young lady in our study hall. He also taught me other things more mundane.

There were also teachers there who made no bones about being in the field of education just for a paycheck and hated kids.

I quit school and went to work, because I was rebellious and still smarting about a failed love affair.

All through my work life different people taught me many things, some by example, some by hands on instruction, and some by both methods. Most of them I liked very much.

Then I met Heather, courted her and we married. For an only child to grow up and get married, learning how to get along with someone in the house, someone who used one side of the bed, someone who put her cold feet in the middle of my back, some one who is a loving partner, someone who could be deeply hurt by some inadvertent act of mine, or careless words uttered - - Wow, a whole new ball game. Marriage 101.

But she put up with me and then we started Maturity 101 by raising children.

I still learn from Heather and our kids and grandkids, the only ones that I think I am ahead of is the great-greats.

I still learn today by exchanging views with many people who have lived, in some way, differently than I.

I think I am learning by writing a diary - - - - I think.

It appears to me that if I can keep an open mind, my life will be one continuing attendance in School . . . . . .

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