Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

Anyway, things during the Depression kept going down for everyone. My life just was bleak except for the escapades.

School was so so for me until I arrived in the 7th grade. Of course, the students were older and the subjects began to be a little interesting. I liked the science classes.

Also, we had to have monitors to help the teachers during change of classes. This resulted in each class voting for a boy and a girl. One of the girls in my homeroom took a liking to me.  I refused every overture she made as I thought her dumb. When the teacher asked her a question she always got the wrong answer. But she was popular with the other girls in the room. She had one of the girls nominate me. There were other candidates. When the teacher called out for those who voted for me, most of the girls and some boys voted for me. And I got the vote for the boy monitor.

The girl who won for the girl monitor was a looker and a lot of the boys voted for her. When the teacher saw practically all the girls voting for me, she smelled problems and she appointed the girl to be the monitor. She was surprised when she saw what happened in her classroom. I guess she did what she did, that she figured there would be trouble when and if I was the monitor. She saw the girls reaction toward me in the room and sure she figured that there would be comments which would disturb the quiet process of changing rooms.

The school [ed: Donald McKay Jr. High School] was close to our homes and we went home for lunch. The same when I went to Samuel Adams Elementary School.

I was looking forward to trying out for soccer ball at the junior high, but things were such that the city cut this out to save money. It was city wide as well as other events.

I did enough work to be able to get in the high 70s.

And at the 9th grade, there was a litte bit of a teacher, Miss Lavonia. She looked more like one of the girls students than a teacher. She was cute and we may have caused her problems. The other teachers loved her and they acted more like mothers. Very protective and if they spotted any boy giving her a hard time they would be punished with the rattan before the class. Miss Lavonia taught Italian and French.

I had Italian in the 8th grade so I picked French. I was always into some mischief and she would send me out of the room. I spent more time in the corridors than in the classroom. One day I as observed by my homeroom teacher, Miss Sullivan, assistant principal. She asked me what I was doing in the corridor and I told her Miss Lavonia sent me out of the room because I was disruptive.

Naturally she was upset. And so she marched me back into that classroom, which happened to be my homeroom and also her classroom. She shared this with Miss Lavonia. And as I've stated, Sullivan acted more like a mother and really watched out for her.

And she was going to give it to me. She was one of thes brawny type women, probably 5' 10" and broad. Much later she became superintendant of the Boston schools.

Well she was going to give me a rattan and Miss Lavonia had to witness this. It was also Spring time and for some weeks prior to this episode, I was playing baseball and catch [ed: without a glove] Both my hands were hardened. I'm sure that she had made her mind up that I would go to my seat crying.

She was wrong. I made up my mind no crying, no crying, no nothing, no blinking or any indicator that I was being hurt. Straight face.

Boy, did she get angry, she tried hard, but I just kept my hand out and did the same when I was ordered to change hands.

Believe it or not, I was becoming a celebrity, but for all the wrong rerasons.

Another time I was late and this upset Miss Sullivan, as the school had a program of no late students and inspection for dress, cleanliness, posture, etc. and each teacher strove to have the best class for the month.

Miss Sullivan asked for my reason and I thought fast and told her that I saw another boy who was hurt. He had a bad fall and broke an arm. So I took him to the Relief Station.

It proved to be a good white lie. I was quite familiar with the Relief Station for first aid care and took the chance as I had seen many a kid walk in or carried in or helped in for treatment.

I was a regular there.

Sullivan said well if I had spoiled the class standing for that it would be worthwhile. But she was going to check on this with the statement that if I had lied as she had suspected I would be bounced out of school.

She left to get to the principal's office for the outside phone. It took awhile. She came back said well you are lucky. There was a boy at the Relief Station with a broken arm that another boy had accompanied and left before they could get his name. She let me go to my seat. For me it was a good bet. I knew my community very well.