Carlene Havel's Blog: Carlene - Posts Tagged "1960s"
1960s
Starting today, I'll be serializing a short story about a 1960s high school adventure. Enjoy!
Every girl in my high school wanted to belong to the popular clique, but that required being pretty and appealing to the opposite sex. There was also a group of girls we called fast. Fast girls wore piles of makeup. Some bleached their hair. Most smoked an occasional cigarette in the girls’ bathroom, and all were rumored to have done it. I wasn’t sure what “it” was, but no matter. My hawk-eyed parents would never let me wear enough makeup to run with this crowd. By default I drifted into a small group of self-styled smart girls. We thought of ourselves as studious, since never having a date leaves a lot of time for hitting the books. Smart girls did homework during study hall instead of passing notes to reveal who liked whom.
Athletes wore their letter jackets on the day they were awarded. For the remainder of the year, the jackets would be worn by the popular girls. A boy who wore his own jacket in the hallway thereby signaled he had broken up with his popular girlfriend. In a week or so the trophy would pass to another member of the in-crowd. The previously disgraced male of the species could resume hauling a double load of books. He would again fit in.
Every girl in my high school wanted to belong to the popular clique, but that required being pretty and appealing to the opposite sex. There was also a group of girls we called fast. Fast girls wore piles of makeup. Some bleached their hair. Most smoked an occasional cigarette in the girls’ bathroom, and all were rumored to have done it. I wasn’t sure what “it” was, but no matter. My hawk-eyed parents would never let me wear enough makeup to run with this crowd. By default I drifted into a small group of self-styled smart girls. We thought of ourselves as studious, since never having a date leaves a lot of time for hitting the books. Smart girls did homework during study hall instead of passing notes to reveal who liked whom.
Athletes wore their letter jackets on the day they were awarded. For the remainder of the year, the jackets would be worn by the popular girls. A boy who wore his own jacket in the hallway thereby signaled he had broken up with his popular girlfriend. In a week or so the trophy would pass to another member of the in-crowd. The previously disgraced male of the species could resume hauling a double load of books. He would again fit in.
Mr. Krause
The following is Part 3 of a short story about the way it was...back in the 1960s. Parts one and two are contained in the previous two days' blogs. Enjoy!
Taking a seat behind his desk, Mr. Krause straightened his tie and began to speak. His voice was deep and strong, with just the slightest trace of the Old Country lingering. He spoke deliberately, making eye-contact with each student. “Physics is the study of matter and motion. It is the foundation of the discipline of mechanical engineering. It is not a class for girls.” He stopped talking, and my heart stopped beating. The ten boys smirked.
To be continued...
Taking a seat behind his desk, Mr. Krause straightened his tie and began to speak. His voice was deep and strong, with just the slightest trace of the Old Country lingering. He spoke deliberately, making eye-contact with each student. “Physics is the study of matter and motion. It is the foundation of the discipline of mechanical engineering. It is not a class for girls.” He stopped talking, and my heart stopped beating. The ten boys smirked.
To be continued...
Part 6 - the end
This is the sixth and final installment of a short story/memoir from high school in the 1960s. For parts 1-5, see my last five days' blogs. Enjoy!
I’ll say this for old Mr. Krause; he didn’t fudge on grades. The students who knew the answers passed the tests. At the end of the semester there were five A’s in the class. Kitty breezed to hers with her usual aplomb. I worked like a dog for mine.
Not long afterwards, bras were burning, women were marching, and teachers like Mr. Krause were retiring. An awakening started for me on that September morning, when I began to understand conformity is not always essential. Maybe that’s the basis of the discipline of mechanical engineering. Anyway, that’s what I remember from high school physics.
I’ll say this for old Mr. Krause; he didn’t fudge on grades. The students who knew the answers passed the tests. At the end of the semester there were five A’s in the class. Kitty breezed to hers with her usual aplomb. I worked like a dog for mine.
Not long afterwards, bras were burning, women were marching, and teachers like Mr. Krause were retiring. An awakening started for me on that September morning, when I began to understand conformity is not always essential. Maybe that’s the basis of the discipline of mechanical engineering. Anyway, that’s what I remember from high school physics.
