No chewing gum! Shirttails tucked in! On time or five minutes early! These were the words printed neatly in large letters on the chalkboard that greeted A.R.M.ís newest junior class. It was the first day of school in September and I had chosen Distributive Education for one of my courses for the 1960-61 year at Boyden High School.
D.E. students participated in classroom instruction and were also placed in local businesses for on-the-job training experience. Satisfactory completion of both phases of the program resulted in two credits earned toward the school yearís required curriculum total. Other courses such as math, English and science counted as one credit each. D.E. students were permitted to leave at the end of fifth period class to report to their jobs.
As I was knowledge-hungry, I chose to attend all six classes in addition to my work assignment. My ultimate goal was to graduate after my senior year with as many credits as possible.
Now, back to the chalkboard. Addie Rhem Morris was the artist of these chalky words. She was our classroom teacher and D.E. coordinator. Initial instruction to this career-oriented course dealt with proper interview skills, which included appearance and conduct of the applicant. Mrs. Morris was a great teacher. She was highly intelligent and well known and revered by her former students as well as local businessmen and women. She was very active in various civic organizations and was always willing and ready to assist any worthwhile cause or campaign. Her passion for securing success for her students was so strong that at times it was misconstrued, especially by a couple of guys in my class who Iíll call Heckel and Jeckel. Bear in mind, these were teenage boys with nothing much on their minds but girls, the easiest way to pass the class, and whether it was time for lunch yet.
Addie Rhem was stern at times but she certainly was no dummy. She led Heckel and Jeckel to believe they were getting the best of her when they pulled mischievous pranks such as hiding her chalk, putting whoopee cushions in her chair or rearranging her desk. There was a large display window in our classroom that faced the hallway. This was used for in-class training of window dressing and/or decorating as it applied to some work places. Once, while Addie Rhem was delayed by a staff meeting, Heckel and Jeckel decided to re-dress the mannequins by swapping their clothes and accessories. I have to admit it was quite humorous to see the male model with a wide-brimmed hat and purse accompanying his flowing A-line skirt. Upon her return, Addie Rhem showed no emotion to the prank and began class as usual. Drat! No action! No fun!
It wasnít long before Heckel and Jeckel were implying that I was the teacherís pet. Actually, they said I was the right hand of the A.R.M. They thought this reference to be clever and hilarious. In actuality, I did live across the street from her and was good friends with her next door neighbors who just happened to be her daughter, Barbara Rufty and husband Harold and their lovely children, Cathy, Bonnie, Melonie, Osco and Barbara Jean.
But really ó teacherís pet? No way ó not me! She did, however, express motherly pride when I was selected president of the D.E. club, the first female to ever serve in this capacity. But honestly, she did not stuff the ballot box! It was a clean, fair election.
Heckel and Jeckel continued with their good- natured ribbing of me, as well as occasional pranks on our tolerant, forgiving teacher. When final exam tests were handed out, Heckel and Jeckelís were two pages shorter than the rest of ours. The final part of their tests required both guys to dress and pose as mannequins in the display window as other students passed by during class breaks. Oh yes, did I mention their attire was to be totally womenís fashions? I ask you, who were the real dummies now?
I thank God for and praise all devoted and caring teachers of today, yesterday and tomorrow. Their influences on young people everywhere are everlasting.
Margaret Shumate lives in Salisbury.