High School. September 1976. I vividly remember sitting in the auditorium at Roger Ludlowe high school, under the bright lights, surrounded by the rest of the 500+ member freshman class, wondering what the hell I was doing there. A shock to the system - from around 30 well-known classmates, to this swarming, writhing mass of adolescent humanity, over 500 strong, that represented the ass-end of the baby boomer generation. From the cloistered, sheltered halls of Catholic school to this sprawling, confusing, three story institution. I had never operated nor used a locker, a cafeteria or needed to change clothes for gym class. I had never needed to find different classrooms for each subject, carry my books with me or figure out how to get to room 310 from home room 123. I had never felt so much the 'fish out of water'.
"What I Am To Be, I Am Now Becoming."
That was emblazoned in two foot high letters on a banner at the entrance to the school's main office. I'm not sure if that was a threat or a cheery promise, as if you were being sent to the Principal's office, you were in BIG trouble, bucko! The school was divided into three 'houses': Webster House, Silliman House and Haynes House. My house was Webster and was in the newest wing of the building; the basement hallways had bright yellow lockers but the interior position of the odd numbered rooms resulted in no windows, which in turn resulted in classrooms that were a bit gloomy.
Mrs. Catherine ("Call Me Ma") Dillingham was my homeroom teacher. She was one of those no-nonsense teachers but she had a great sense of humor; you could joke with her so long as you respected her authority, which we all did. I was lumped with all the other "end of the alphabet" kids; with surnames beginning from "S" to "Z", we were the kids who were used to being called last in attendance checks, lining up last in those alphabetical order line-ups, and generally getting the shaft in anything done alphabetically.
Mr. Riley's English class was a bad fit for me, as I skewed the grading curve. Had I had the proper guidance, I would have likely been placed in an honors class, but lacking same, I opted for what I considered the "easiest" English, where little would be expected of me. I got that right!
Ms. Machunk's "Math 101" was also a revelation - honestly, could my classmates not add and subtract? The answer was 'yes' - it was a fun review, though, as she was a novice teacher who thought to put our learning to use by having field trips to Circle Lanes (bowling alley) and the Par 3 (golf course). She also taught "Health" class - it was the first time I heard the word "penis" spoken aloud.
"Justice in America" was memorable for me - I remember watching a prison movie ("Glass Houses" with a young Alan Alda) and writing a "Modest Proposal" with Mr. Brennan. I may have frightened him a little bit with my essay on reinstituting slavery; I was a very tongue-in-cheek writer and may just have come off as a bit too realistic for him. It was not slavery based on race for 1976 - it was solely based on a socio-economic factors. Mr. Brennan's class was a revelation to me - he actually encouraged discussion and debate and his questions to us were truly thought-provoking.
Gym class...was a foreign concept. In all my years at St. Thomas, we had precisely one gym teacher, whose fitness programs consisted of games of supervised dodgeball, kickball and other 'ball' games. I think I may have taken golf or archery; not a stand-out memory.
"Earth Science" with Mr. Dillon was a wonderful class...he showed lots of film strips and movies and we didn't need to dissect anything, which was a relief.
Two semesters of "Home Ec", forced upon me by my mother, were supposed to help us learn cooking basics and sewing basics. "Ma" Phelps was a terrific teacher and I still use the white sauce recipe as a base for virtually every chicken soup dish but Mrs. Barilla...let's just say I may have been the bane of her existence that year. I understood the concept of sewing but frequently sewed the arms of my garment in upside-down or inside out. I was dyslexic when it came to sewing and she knew it.
I remember making decent grades as a Freshman - maybe made the honor roll once or twice - but I was intent on flying under the radar by being not too good a student, nor too in need of remedial services. If there had been awards for being totally invisible, I would have won those easily.
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