Messages in a Cyber-Bottle between a Couple of Old Marooned
Pirates
May, 2002
by W
E, you hear a lot about violence and rowdiness of today's high school
youths, but I saw things at Rogers in the so-called conformist 50's
that I never saw as a high school teacher in the rebellious 60's and
70's or any other time in my thirty-one year career associated with
the youth of America. To wit: study hall proctors physically dragging
poor little freshman, such as I, off a stool and dragging them to
another location and boldly plopping them down, all with the tacit
approval of the study hall warden, in this case Mrs. Schmidt.
The more beefy guys armed with hack paddles acting as security troops
at games and other functions. Having been one myself temporarily, we
were given no instructions on how to use those paddles. I guess we all
knew, and it was assumed, a swift swack on the bungies was what it was
for.
A desk being kicked out of the business ed classroom and down the hall
during a classroom change. Always did wonder if the desk ever got back
to it's assigned classroom.
Two students, so-called, attacking the study hall teacher, Mr. Molchon,
or George, as he was called by the rowdier ones, those who seemed to
be regular patrons across the street at the Pirate.
A pirate boldly striding down the front hallway, having come from the
direction of the Pirate, furiously puffing a cigarette (most likely
unfiltered...the guy was tough) just daring Mr. Jelinek to arrest him.
He did, indeed, get arrested about the time he got to the office door.
Mr. Coleman's car getting torched in the parking lot by some
apparently disgruntled student. The staff put on a fund-raising play
to raise money to have the car replaced. It seemed to draw a large
student audience, perhaps out of sympathy for Mr. Coleman, but the
main draw, I suspect, was to see our teachers in a truly different
role.
No wonder Rogers had a reputation for being a rough school. What
puzzles me is that this was in the mild 50's ... at least seen that
way by historians about America in general. One could assume from this
that there really were blackboard jungles, by the film of that name.
Makes you wonder if our theme in 2010 should read, "I survived
four years at Rogers."
But what the heck. Maybe it did make us tougher to face the world, as
they probably said at the graduation speech. Don't they always talk
about going out to meet the challenges before us at graduation
ceremonies?
-W
Response by E:
W, I never lived anywhere other than NE Spokane until I emerged
screaming from the Spokane Coliseum, diploma in-hand, running toward a
new life. I assumed that life was rough everywhere, however. Movies
such as Blackboard Jungle confirmed this. Imagine my surprise when I
landed in East Lansing, Michigan three months later, discovering that
life WASN'T rough everywhere -- but winters could be.
Prior to age 18, bullies dogged me, even in kindergarten. I had a
classmate that looked like the yellow-eyed bully, Scut Farkus, in the
movie, "A Christmas Story," by Jean Shepherd ("You'll
shoot your eye out, kid."). One day after school, he called me
over to him. For my trouble, I got the wind knocked out of me. His
last name was appropriate: BRATton. I didn't always lose. I remember
getting in a fight in the first grade, where lunch boxes were
swinging. I caught one opponent in the temple with the corner of my
lunchbox. I remember getting the best of a (smaller) classmate at
Cooper Elementary in the third grade. He turned out to be a good
friend through the end of our time together at Rogers.
I remember problems at Rogers. As a Freshman, I got punched in the
face by an upper classman. Oh, I probably brought it on myself with my
mouth. I remember a more civilized upper classman telling me to shut
up or he'd stuff me "in that garbage can over there."
I used to schlep around town on foot after dark. Raging hormones
caused this. If I was out of my own neighborhood at night, and heard
"clack clack clack" up the street, I took a detour. Remember
that many thought it was cool to have taps on their shoes? Great
warning system! The more noise, the better. If I ran into a group of
those guys in their neighborhood at night, trouble was a certainty. It
was prudent to avoid the vicinity of Gonzaga Prep on foot, day or at
night.
I remember Mrs. Schmidt's version of a study hall. Hers was the third
period of the first day of my four years at Rogers. I couldn't believe
the ever-banging gavel and the drill sergeant's demeanor. She was
scary! That place wasn't a study hall, It was a holding pen. Looking
back, I think she was a nice lady that was good at controlling
borderline thugs. Bob Parry's mother, Mary, substituted for Mrs.
Schmidt once. Mary still has the desk blotter that said, "Do not
hit. Dangerous explosives. "
George Molchan's study hall was different. He never seemed in control.
I usually studied in the library next door when I had his study hall.
I've told you that I can't bring myself to use first names for our old
teachers. George is the exception. Everybody called him George. He
seemed to get no respect -- a prototypical Rodney Dangerfield without
the mudslide face. I heard apocryphal stories of George "getting
punched out." I never witnessed it, if it happened. It was
abhorrent to me then as it is now.
The Pirate was an interesting phenomenon. I can't say that I've seen
its like near any high school where we reared our kids. It served a
great purpose. I used to wonder why Mr. Jelinek didn't go over there
and haul the penny-pitchers back to school. Now I understand. He
likely preferred them to be over at the Pirate, making less trouble
for George.
I generally have an excellent memory. I can almost reach out and touch
some of the scenes. I've heard the story of the desk being kicked down
the hall so many times that I almost believe I can remember it -- but
I can't. This story fits right in with my vision of Rogers in 1956
through 1960. Similarly, I don't really remember Mr. Coleman's car
getting torched or the fund raiser by his peers. This is odd, because
I was fairly close to Mr. Coleman, because of my science fair
activities (sidebar: he's still living in Spokane). This must have
happened in our junior or senior years. I had a work permit then, and
was away from school more.
My appraisal of Rogers in the late fifties matches yours. Nowadays, I
wonder if I know what my kids' lives were really like at school. My
parents never had a clue about what my school day was like, other than
the fact that my mother attended Rogers, passing Mrs. Frisbie, Mr.
Beecher and Mr. Purdy on to me. I judge that the average level of
problems probably may be lower today, in most regions, than they were
then at Rogers. I consider your dual qualifications: student then,
teacher now (closer to now), as making you more qualified to make a
comparison.
On balance, we could ask ourselves: did anybody die? I live in a
genteel region, yet my kids lost many acquaintances to death. I went
to several of those funerals. The frequency of violence across the
general US teen population perhaps isn't at the level of that at
Rogers in the 60's, but now we sporadically see kids are armed with
knives, guns, and Mitsubishi Eclipses. Some of their role models are
from a darker world of TV, movie, and video game fantasy. The spikes
in violence are higher than they were in the fifties. There are fewer
feelings of consequences, remorse or limitations. Remember the typical
word at Rogers to attend a gladiatorial contest? "Bucko's going
to fight Rocko tonight in the parking lot!" Nobody was
permanently injured. In comparison, consider that one of my kids'
friends was randomly shot to death by a non-student while standing in
such a crowd.
Did anybody die in car wrecks at Rogers? Maybe. I remember a single
memoriam in one of our early yearbooks. Now they die at 120 mph racing
on interstate highways, with the parents of the dead suing one-another
afterward. This usually happens yearly, just before graduation. The
yearbooks are full of black-banners.
Perhaps the climate at Rogers in the fifties was a warm-up for the
world of the oughts.
