CATEGORIES:
BiologyChemistryConstructionCultureEcologyEconomyElectronicsFinanceGeographyHistoryInformaticsLawMathematicsMechanicsMedicineOtherPedagogyPhilosophyPhysicsPolicyPsychologySociologySportTourism
Faculty Conference Minutes
NOTES FOR FACULTY CONFERENCE MINUTES
met: On Monday, Sept. 28 At 3:06 p.m. In: School Library Attendance: 100%
Dr. Clarke's after-summer greeting:
Bea Schachter brought up urgent
Above problems postponed for time Floater #1: When enters classroom, Floater #2: Desk dictionary found
Dictionary not to be re- Floater #1: No room left in left- Floater #2: Left-hand drawer not
Subcommittee of Grievance Com. on
Bea Schachter raised question of stu- McHabe: Must stick to mime-
Main topic for discussion: Marks to Various Pro's and Con's. Which is best way to save time? Committee formed to look into. 81/2 min.
Barringer suggested abolishing after-
Discussion on School Aides: Aides were finally assigned to us to relieve teachers of non-teaching chores, but now teachers have been assigned other non-teaching chores. Also, Aides turned out to be in the way: they are not allowed to take over a class; not allowed to work on records; not allowed Late Room or Health Room. Also, cafeteria workers resent them for just sitting around.
Conclusion: School Aides to guard
Problem raised re dope addiction Shelved for lack of time. 1/2 min.
McHabe warned re smoking in lava-
Manheim: re inadequate Science Lab. McHabe: Must go through chan-
Miss Egan (School Nurse): Urged Dr. Clarke: "Mens sana in corpore
Mrs. Wolf (Librarian): When return
Teacher (? gray suit, mustache):
Bea Schachter: re problems of inte- Dr. Clarke: Due and orderly process.
Dignity. Brother's Keeper. The Mary Lewis: re plaster falling from McHabe: Must go through chan-
McHabe: Urged cooperation on late-
Miss Finch (School Clerk): "Teach-
Miss Friedenberg (Guidance Coun-
Barringer: Suggested abolishing
Mary Lewis: Now that reading from McHabe: OK if word "prayer" is
not mentioned, and if don't move Teacher (? gray suit, mustache): sug-
Displaced Teachers: Because Fire
Dr. Clarke's conclusion: Education
Problems of instructional load, bur-
Teacher (? gray suit, mustache) sug- Faculty Conference adjourned at 4:06
total: 60 min. (Rewrite, type up in triplicate, and respectfully
Pupil-Load
Oct. 2
Dear Ellen, Another FTG; another week. Time collapses and expands like an erratic accordion, and your letters bring order, sanity and remembrance of things past to my disheveled present. I envy you your leisure to browse and putter and to enjoy your family in peaceful suburbia. As for me—as for me . . . The cold war between the Admiral and me is getting warmer; tension between Ferone and me is getting tenser; Miss Finch, the school clerk, floods me with papers from the giant maw of her mimeograph machine, and I'm not at all sure that I will last in the school system. In my homeroom, I'm lucky if I can get through the D's in taking attendance. Admiral Ass lurks outside in the hall, ready to pounce at the first sign of mutiny. Or perhaps he watches through a periscope from his office. In my subject classes, we are still juggling books. Essays Old and New was changed by the powers that be to The Odyssey and Myths and Their Meaning. I have only two weeks in which to teach my SS class the mythology of the race and Homer's great epic, since other teachers are waiting for these books, since they must be read before the Mid-term Exams, since questions on them will appear on the Midterms, and since the Midterms must be scheduled before
Thanksgiving to enable the teachers to mark them during the holidays. I keep looking for clues in whatever the kids say or write. I've even installed a Suggestion Box in my room, in the hope that they will communicate their feelings freely and eventually will learn to trust me. So far, most of them are still a field of faces, rippling with every wind, but a few are beginning to emerge. There is Lou Martin, the class comedian, whose forte is facial expressions. No one can look more crestfallen over unprepared homework: hand clasped to brow, knees buckling, shoulders sagging with remorse, he is a penitent to end all penitents. No one can look more thirsty when asking for a pass: tongue hanging out, eyes rolling, a death-rattle in the throat, he can barely make it to the water fountain. No one can look more horrified at a wrong answer issuing from his own traitor lips; or more humble; or more bewildered; or more indignant. I know it's not in the syllabus, but I'm afraid I encourage him by laughing. I'm beginning to learn some of their names and to help them—if they would let me. But I am still the Alien and the Foe; I have not passed the test, whatever it is. I'm a foe to Eddie Williams because my skin is white; to Joe Ferone because I am a teacher; to Carrie Paine because I am attractive. Eddie uses the grievance of his color to browbeat the world. Joe is flunking every subject, though he is very bright. He has become a bone of contention between McHabe and me because I believed in his innocence in the stolen wallet incident. I trust him, and he—he keeps watching me, ready to spring at the first false move I make. Carrie is a sullen, cruelly homely girl, hiding and hating behind a wall of fat. Harry Kagan is a politician and apple-polisher. He is running for G.O. president, and I'm afraid he'll be elected.
Linda Rosen is an over-ripe under-achiever, bursting with hormones. And pretty Alice Blake, pale with love, lost in a dream of True Romances, is vulnerable and committed as one can be only at 16. She feels deeply, I'm sure, but can translate her feelings only into the cheap clichés she's been brought up on. Then there is Rusty, the woman-hater. And a quiet, defeated-looking Puerto Rican boy, whose name I can't even remember. These children have been nourished on sorry scraps, on shabby facsimiles, and there is no one—not at home, not in school—who has not short-changed them. You know, I've just realized there is not even a name for them in the English language. 'Teen-agers," "Youngsters," "Students," "Kids," "Young adults," "Children"—these are inappropriate, offensive, stilted, patronizing or inaccurate. On paper they are our "Pupil-load"; on lecture platform they are our "Youngsters"—but what is their proper name? The frightening thing is their unquestioning acceptance of whatever is taught to them by anyone in front of the room. This has nothing to do with rebellion against authority; they rebel, all right, and loudly. But it doesn't occur to them to think. There is a premium on conformity, and on silence. Enthusiasm is frowned upon, since it is likely to be noisy. The Admiral had caught a few kids who came to school before class, eager to practice on the typewriters. He issued a manifesto forbidding any students in the building before 8:20 or after 3:00—outside of school hours, students are "unauthorized." They are not allowed to remain in a classroom unsupervised by a teacher. They are not allowed to linger in the corridors. They are not allowed to speak without raising a hand. They are not allowed to feel too strongly or to laugh too loudly. Yesterday, for example, we were discussing "The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars/ But in ourselves that we are underlings." I had been trying to relate Julius Caesar to their own experiences. Is this
true? I asked. Are we really masters of our fate? Is there such a thing as luck? A small boy in the first row, waving his hand frantically: "Oh, call on me, please, please call on me!" was propelled by the momentum of his exuberant arm smack out of his seat and fell on the floor. Wild laughter. Enter McHabe. That afternoon, in my letter-box, it had come to his attention that my "control of the class lacked control." But I had made that little boy think. I started something in him that emerged as an idea. I got him excited by a concept. And that's a lot! Sometimes, of course, I am misled by their eagerness. There's a girl who never takes her eyes off me. This morning, when I asked a question about Brutus, she flung out her hand, pleading to be recognized. When I called on her, she said: "You wearing contack lens?" It's a good thing Bester wasn't there to observe me. Yet there's more to that man than meets the eye. I'm impressed by his masterly handling of what's known hereabouts as "a discipline problem." He had stepped into the Early Late Room (don't ask me to explain what it is, nor why I was there) and asked one of the boys for his program card. "Aw, go jump in the lake," said the boy. The class sucked in its breath. With icy courtesy, Bester asked the boy to repeat what he had said, please. The boy did. "What were the first two words?" Bester asked, exquisitely polite. "Aw go." "Would you say that again, please?" "Aw go." "What was it again?" "Aw go." "Would you mind repeating the next word?" "Jump." "Again, please?" "Jump." "Again?" "Jump." Do you know how absurd the word "jump" can begin to sound after a while, when spoken solemnly by a boy standing among his peers? The boy was licked, and he knew it; the snickering class knew it; Bester knew it; and as he left, he said, with the same impeccable courtesy: "I'll be glad to recommend you for a remedial speech class." I wish I could learn his assurance. It's in my homeroom that I feel such a failure. They are still suspicious
of me. They are still trying me out. One girl, shy and troubled, did reach out. She asked to see me after school last Monday. She was apparently afraid to go home. Unfortunately, it was the day of the Faculty Conference, which is sacrosanct; attendance is compulsory. Perhaps I could have helped her. She hasn't been in school since. Truant officer reports she has run away from home. At the Conference (we're supposed to sit it out for one hour each month; anything less, I believe, is unlawful) I watched my brothers and sisters, resignation or indifference settled like fine dust upon them—except for a few nervous souls who kept stirring up the soup. As a new teacher, I understood the protocol: I was not to speak. I was, however, asked to write up the minutes. I took notes, which I must now type up, and I timed the meeting: 60 minutes to the second! All our hours and minutes are accounted for, planned for, raced against. Preparations are already afoot for Open School Day and the Xmas Faculty Show, and there are strange portents in the air and on the bulletin board. Only this morning a cryptic notice appeared over the time clock: "Advanced Algebra will be offered next term until further notice." I don't know what it means, either; nor what "minimal standards and maximal goals" means—it's a problem of communication. Communication. If I knew how to reach them, I might be able to teach them. I asked them to write for me what they had covered so far in their high school English, and what they hoped to achieve in my class. Their papers were a revelation: I saw how barren were the years they brought me; I saw how desperately they need me, or someone like me. There aren't enough of us. Yet—with all my eagerness to teach, teaching is the one thing Calvin Coolidge makes all but impossible. To the outside world, of course, this job is a cinch: 9 to 3, five days a week, two months' summer vacation with pay, all legal holidays, prestige and respect. My mother, for example, has the pleasant notion that
my day consists of nodding graciously to the rustle of starched curtsies and a chorus of respectful voices bidding me good morning. It's so good to have you to write to! Love, Syl
P. S. Did you know that in New York City there are more than 800 schools, over 86 high schools, and about one million pupils? And that out of every 100 children who start school, only 15 go on to receive a college diploma? For most, this is all the education they'll ever get. S.
A Doze of English
In answer to your question what we got out of English so far I am answering that so far I got without a doubt nothing out of English. Teachers were sourcastic sourpuses or nervous wrecks. Half the time they were from other subjects or only subs. One term we had 9 different subs in English. Once when Dr. Bester took our class I got a glimpse of what it's all about but being the Head he isn't allowed to teach. Also no place to learn. Last term we had no desks to write only wet slabs from the fawcets because our English was in the Science Lab and before that we had no chairs because of being held in Gym where we had to squatt. Even the regulars Mrs. Lewis made it so boreing I wore myself out yawning, and Mr. Loomis (a Math) hated teaching and us. Teachers try to make us feel lower than themselves, maybe this is because they feel lower than outside people. One teacher told me to get out of the room and never come back, which I did. A Cutter
What I got out of it is Litterature and Books. Also some Potery. And just before a test—a doze of English. Having Boys in class dis-tracks me from my English. Better luck next time. Linda Rosen
In Miss Pastorfeilds class I really enjoyed it we had these modren methods like Amature Hour and Gussing Games in rows with a scorekepper and to draw stick figures to show the different characters in the different books and Speling Hospital and Puntuation Trafic and Sentence Baseball with prizes for all thats the way to really learn English. A True Student
I only learned one thing and that is a "quotion mark" I know a "quotion mark" upside down and that's all this one teacher thaught. I had one well not to mention no names and she was mad for "grammar" mistakes, Miss Lewis loved to pick on me! With Pasterfield we "dramatized" everything in sight and my last was a bug on "Democricy", we spent all our time voting on what to do and no time to do it. Only once I had a teacher that was any good but she got "sick" and left. I hope this term with you will be good because you seem to be "alive" though it's too early to tell. Chas. H. Robbins
I hate to think back on all my English years except one teacher I will never forget because when my note book wasn't so good (it was mostly in pencil) instead of telling me to do it over in ink she just told me to put renforcements on the holes and that will be enough. The next day she asked me did I put renforcements in. When I said I did she didn't even look she just said she'd take my word for it. That gave me a warm feeling inside because it was the first time a teacher took a pupil's word without asking to see if it
was true. Most of the time they don't even know your name. Me
In two years of H.S. Eng. I learned 1. How to read a newspaper A. Headlines 2. How to outline 3. Comparises of authors (Hawthore) 4. And S. Marner They shouldn't give S. Marners out. We would prefer a teen age book like Lollita better. Teenager
During my many years of frequenting school I was well satisfied with my instruction. English is a very important language to study, especially if it's the language we speak daily. Since most of us are in High School, we are interested in getting an English education. I believe English to have been of grave importance to me and I will try in my next future to increase my knowledge. English outshines all my other subjects. I've always had good marks because I am a worker and I feel that anything a teacher tells me is of benefit to me. Speaking, which is my specialty, composition, which also attracts my attention, writing perfect sentences with punctuation where it really belongs, and many others which are of grave importance have been taught to me with excellent results. I was likewise impressed by the good work of my classmates. I hope to achieve further progress in my chosen program of study with an excellent teacher like yourself. Harry A. Kagan (The Students Choice)
Being your new around here you should know I made a bargian with all my teachers, if I don't bother them they won't bother me. So from now on I'm not writting any more for you.
In my 16 year life span so far I've had my share of almost every type of teacher but one I shall ne'er forget was in elementary (6th grade) because with her I had to watch my peas and ques. She was so strict she gave us homework every night and tried to pound it into our heads but it's the way she did the pounding that makes her different. She took a real interest and brought out our good and bad points. She stayed in every day after school so we could come in and ask her questions about the work. She militarized us and sometimes whacked us but for all her strictness a strange thing happened at the end of the term: every one gathered around her and kissed her. But high school seems harder, speeches, speeches, that's all we hear.
Dropout
What I learned in English is to doodle. It's such a boring subject I just sat and doodled the
hours away. Sometimes I wore sunglasses in class to sleep.
Doodlebug
I don't look at a teacher as a thing but as a person like myself & I accepted many teachers with their faults & tried to conscentrate on their Dr. Jekile side. But some are just not cut out to be teachers—too old and nervious & the way she taught you just couldn't understand it. She was the talker. If she didn't talk about her sisters or next door neighbors she talked about the generation of today & we couldn't get a word in edgewise. She was one of those that make big plans at the beginning of the term & never get around to it. They act like they're doing you the greatest favor, with sarcastic remarks like "The nerve of some peoples children!" The answer was actually scared out of us even if we knew it. When we did answer she gave us no credit but said "It's about time you learned something!" Whenever I laughed or excuse me burped in class quite acidentally I would be pulled out to sit in some remote corner of the school. A Bashful Nobody
I had Dr. Bester for one week while my regular teacher took a rest cure and we liked him but I feel he developed a false character to cover up. This false character consisted of a stern face and remarks but every one saw a good teacher shin-
ing through the false window of sterness. He roused our somewhat hidden interest in English and we all worked our head off for him. Carole Blanca
I once had an English teacher in another school that not only treated me as a student but as she would her own sons. She gave me clothes that her son had outgrown. The clothes that were given to me were in good condition. Frank Allen
In Junior High we had a brand new teacher of English, he was so young he couldn't manage the class at all, we didn't listen to a word he said even when he shouted. One day while he had a chalk fight with a kid the kids all left the room one by one. Well, instead of going out to the hall to see if we were there he put on his coat, took his umbrella swung it over his shoulder and marched out of the room whistling. He didn't say a word to us. You can probably guess that we were replaced by a new teacher. That is the one English that stands out in my head.
The only teacher I had who didn't make us feel so bad about ourselves. That's Mrs. Schachter. She was plain with us and she made everything seem easy which it isn't. She even liked us. Every since I have pleaded on bended knee to get her back but to no availl. I wish I went to a school
with big sunny windows with trees in them and no one talks behind your back. Where the teacher would be more of a friend and not have favorites just because some one is better. Vivian Paine
As long as you asked here is my list: Miss Pastorfield lets us walk all over her Mrs. Lewis they should retire her Mr. Barringer is a big show off Mrs. Schachter OK Miss Barrett should be a movie stare Mr. Loomis ignorammis You may not agree but that's my opion.
While attending Jr. H.S. I ran across a teacher who enjoyed himself and didn't mind being a teacher. His way of teaching was simple, he taught with pride and always understood his pupils even if they couldn't explain themselves. He wasn't a dictating teacher but in some magic way we always behaved ourselves. I learned everything I know about English from this nobel man. He made me feel the earth around me, he was like wine except that he didn't give high marks. I frequently went to his room during lunch, we played darts, we ate lunch he brought for us and he would help us with what he could even in other subjects like science. In the summer we went to the park with him and played baseball. This teacher and I still correspond with each other by writing letters. grateful student
English is a personal subject that should be taught by men. Too many females in the schools and they're all no good. Rusty
In my other school I was more of a Majority because the Whites were only these few lads but the education they dished out wasn't so good. Here they tried to integrate me but it didn't take. I'm not what you call an "A" student but I don't mind school at lease it takes me away from home but the teachers are too prejudice they are mostly Whites and I never got a fair mark out of them. I'm not exacly a book reader but I didn't mind it so much untill the teachers started in they ruined it for me. I got no advantage out of diograms and spelling words to write ten times only a waist of good paper. Semicollons also don't stick to my head. It's not right to be pick on all the time! Edward Williams, Esq.
What I learned. What I hope to achieve. So far I've learned words with meanings, words without meanings, oral words, spelling words, parts of speech and a test every Friday. I hope to achieve a grasp on literature and life. Sophomore
A kaleidoscope. A crazy quilt. An ever-shifting pattern. Shapes and shadows that come and go, leaving no echo behind, no ripple on the water where no stone was ever dropped. Such is my remembrance of the lost and vanished years of English, from whence I arise, all creativity stifled,
yet a Phoenix with hope reborn each term anew. Will it be different this term? Will I be encouraged, guided, inspired? The question, poised on the spear of Time, is still unanswered. (I was supposed to be in Mrs. Schachter's Creative Writing class but because of a conflict with Physics 2, I couldn't get in.) Elizabeth Ellis
Its not necessary to study english because what's the use of it big deal so we never make society so what? We're still living aren't we who needs it. studing another langage it would be much better, for example take books it's alright when you see it in the movies, and the words oh, they really get me. It's a bunch of nonsence. (Frankly I would perfer a teacher freely telling me I'm no good in english then giving me dirty looks in the hall.) Disgusted
Dribs & Drabs, McBeth one week Moby Dick next, a quotation mark, oral debates on Should Parents be Strict? Should Girls Wear Jeans? The mistakes I made in elementery school I still make. I hope to achieve correction. Stander
I think after you learn to speak English in kindergarden the subject should be droped. Ha-ha! Grammer should be outlawed! Coma sentences should be bared from the language! Oral talks are to embarassing for those not gifted with "gab". Writen work causes many errors in gr. & sp! Reading books are to hard to answer questions on it! (I like English with no strain on my
brain!) Also on the dislike side of English I can put the constant anoyance of certain students who horsed around. I can put myself in that category because I horsed around and I didn't benefit myself one bit and probly anoyed the class! However we must take the good with the bad and know our whole life will not be a bed of roses! Lou Martin
Grammar & Shakes. — Phooey! Essays — a lot of gossip. Ivanho is for the Birds. George Elliot stinks, even though he is a lady.
Why did you ask this question? To show that you can do the job better? You teachers are all alike, dishing out crap and expecting us to swallow it and then give it back to you, nice and neat, with a place in it for the mark to go in. But you're even phonier than the others because you put on this act—being a dame you know how— and you stand there pretending that you give a damn. Who you kidding? We're dirt to you, just like you're dirt to the fatheads and whistle-blowers who run this jail, and they're dirt to the swindlers and horn-tooters who run the school system. Except for one man in this whole school no one has even given a damn about me, and it's the same at home and in the street outside. You probably don't care for my language, so you can give me a zero in Vocabulary. Anyhow I'm quitting at the end of this term and joining the dogs eating dogs eating other dogs in the great big lousy world you're all educating us for. I sure as hell got myself an education. Though it's not in any syllabus. But you're
the one who's stuck here. Don't worry, you'll find plenty of others willing to play your game of baah, baah, little lost lambs, come back to school. But trot in step, double file. And you'll get your nice clean diplomas served on crap. Yummy. I trust this answers your question. Joe Ferone
Joe — Though your vocabulary is colorful, certain words would be more effective if used sparingly. You express yourself vividly and well, and your metaphors—from dogs to lambs—are apt. I would tend to give you a considerably higher mark than you give yourself, and I am not speaking of English. There is some truth in what you say, but you are far too intelligent to cling to a view as narrow as yours. As for your indictment of me—in this country one is innocent until proved guilty. Why not give me the chance any suspect gets? I think we should have a talk. Can you see me after school today? S. Barrett
I don't understand them big words you use, and I'm busy after school. Every day. You'll have to prove yourself on your own time. Joe (P.S. I wish I could believe you.)
Enrichment, Etc.
Dear Miss Barrett, Here is a copy of the English Syllabus; let it be your Bible. It discusses various ways to provide enrichment, etc. Samuel Bester Chairman, Language Arts Dept.
* * *
A GUIDING PRINCIPLE TO BE CONSIDERED IN ALL CLASSROOM PROCEDURES IS THE PROVISION FOR INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES AND NEEDS OF PUPILS. THE TEACHER SHOULD DISCOVER EACH PUPIL'S ATTAINMENT IN SKILL AND KNOWLEDGE—REGARDLESS OF GRADE PLACEMENT—AND THEN LEAD HIM FORWARD FROM THAT POINT.
* * *
THE DEVELOPMENT OF A READING HABIT BASED ON A LOVE OF READING MAY WELL BE THE MOST IMPORTANT CONTRIBUTION THE SCHOOL CAN MAKE.
* * *
SPECIAL ATTENTION SHOULD BE GIVEN TO MAKING THE ENGLISH CLASSROOM AS ATTRACTIVE AS POSSIBLE. THERE SHOULD BE SHELVES AND TABLES FOR THE CARE AND DISPLAY OF A WIDE VARIETY OF BOOKS AND PERIODICALS. MOVABLE CHAIRS AND DESKS PROMOTE INFORMALITY AND FACILITATE GROUP WORK. PROVISION FOR THE USE OF A SCREEN AND A PROJECTOR, A TAPE-RECORDER, AND OTHER AUDIO-VISUAL AIDS IS DESIRABLE.
PART III
(93)
Persephone
Mon., Oct. 5
Dear Ellen, White brick sounds splendid for your fireplace, but I know nothing about flues except that they make me uneasy. As a matter of fact, I'm also uneasy about teaching. Rumor has it that the ghost walks this week: Bester is on the prowl and is likely to observe my class. What will I do if he comes to see my Special-Slows? Today, in connection with our study of Myths, I put on the board Edna Millay's "Prayer to Persephone." * Do you remember it? Be to her, Persephone, All the things I might not be; Take her head upon your knee. She that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant and free, She that had no need of me, Is a little lonely child Lost in Hell,—Persephone, Take her head upon your knee; Say to her, "My dear, my dear, It is not so dreadful here."
At the sight of a poem, they groaned—it's the
* From Collected Poems, Harper & Row, Publishers. Copyright 1921, 1946 by Edna St. Vincent Millay. By permission of Norma Millay Ellis.
thing to do. Yet when I asked who was speaking (lover about a loved one? mother about a child?), Vivian Paine raised a timid hand: "Maybe a teacher?" There is a need for closeness, yet we can't get too close. The teacher-pupil relationship is a kind of tightrope to be walked. I know how carefully I must choose a word, a gesture. I understand the delicate balance between friendliness and familiarity, dignity and aloofness. I am especially aware of this in trying to reclaim Ferone. I don't know why it's so important to me. Perhaps because he, too, is a rebel. Perhaps because he's been so damaged. He's too bright and too troubled to be lost in the shuffle. I want to get to know him—all of them. One way is to help them say whatever is uniquely theirs in their own words, for words are all we have. I am eager to read their compositions, to empty the Suggestion Box, to listen. You ask the silliest questions, darling! What do you mean, why must I float?—Because Mary Lewis uses my room for two of her classes. Why doesn't she use her own?—Because another floater uses hers. We share the bulletin board and blackboard 50-50. I'm always curious to see what she's got on her half. She says she prefers my room because it has movable chairs—the kind with an arm rest for writing surface. Her room still has the small desks attached to the floor, from the days when the building was an elementary school. There is the problem of where to fit the students' knees. You want to know about Paul. So do I. He's clever and quick and, of course, marvelous looking, with that eyebrow. But there's something about him that—eludes. He even hates to be touched by the kids; it's almost a phobia he has about being jostled in the halls. He always waits until the hall traffic subsides before he leaves his room. He has a devastating effect on the girls. "What I like about him," one of my homeroom girls said, "is the way he always leans against his desk and sometimes he sits on top of it instead of behind."
That may be it. You and Mother are my most faithful correspondents. She worries about my living alone in the big city, without a real kitchen. And she keeps sending me clippings from the Johnstown, Pa. papers: rape, assault, murder. With one stark warning scribbled in the margin: "Be careful!" Only in school, she feels, am I safe. I wonder. Much love, Syl
P. S. Did you know that only 21% of New York City's budget goes for education, compared with as much as 70% in small communities? S.
Date: 2016-01-03; view: 774
|
