SCHOOLS, TELL ABOUT THE ONES YOU’VE ATTENDED, SPECIAL TEACHERS, CLASSES, ACTIVITIES, ACHIEVEMENTS
The first school I ever attended was kindergarten in Buellton, California. Home of Andersen’s Split Pea Soup. Not that that means anything to me. We lived in a motel run by my dad’s adoptive parents. That was an interesting arrangement. Dad had caught a magpie and put it in a cage and was trying to teach it to talk. But, I digress. Back to the school story. I remember about being there. I don’t remember going and coming. I don’t remember the teacher except that she was teaching the class. I recall her being gentle and kind with me, something I was definitely not used to. Then we moved to Santa Barbara, another story about the car being loaded down and all this stuff on my lap and on the floor beside and between my legs. Not a comfortable memory, but joyous in that we were moving into a house.
I then attended Monroe Elementary there in Santa Barbara, CA. There are lots of memories of that school. The teacher taught me how to write my name. A TV star of “The Cisco Kid” came to the school and did a show on the playground with his horse and rope tricks. The fire truck coming and everyone getting red fire hats. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Hildebrand, having us make frosting to decorate cookies for Halloween, I was in charge of stirring the frosting and I think I ate half of it! My 2nd grade teacher, Miss Hanmore, using popsicle sticks to teach me how to do addition and subtraction-it was too abstract a concept and I just couldn’t get it. Sometime toward the end of the school year I started doing a despicable thing. I began taking the lunch money of some of the other students so I could have lunch too. I mean we had lunches we took with us. A Velveta™ sandwich with Miracle Whip™ and sometimes we got an apple to go with it. 3rd grade was Mrs. Brady. Mrs. Diller (the killer) was my 4th grade teacher. She was great. She was strict, but that was where I found the most safety and the greatest peace. She provided a tremendous environment for learning. It was during this grade level that I was found out about the lunch money thing (I didn’t take it everyday) and the principal, Dr. Richard Boaden called me into his office and talked with me about integrity and moral values. He told me to come in during the 2nd morning recess and he’d give me a couple of cookies and go to the lunch room and they’d give me a milk and at lunch time recess I could go to him (he sold popsicles on the play ground) and get an empty popsicle box from him and go around the playground picking up papers and I could earn a popsicle. 5th grade was Mrs. Heron. She got me involved in a club called “We Never Guess, We Always Look It Up.” That was a program that afforded me those things I wasn’t getting at home. It filled in some loose gaps in my education. This was the grade level where I went to school once too often with a black eye and the teacher reported it, again, to the principal, who debriefed me and then invited the plain clothed police officers to come visit with me. This was the grade level when Dr. Boaden would let me leave class about 15 minutes before lunchtime and go to the cafeteria. I’d get a free hot lunch and then I’d wash dishes in the kitchen to pay for my lunch. I was in heaven. I got to have spaghetti, or mashed potatoes and gravy, and salad (something I’d never experienced) and French fries. Oh, life was good. And I could feel good about myself. 6th grade I was in Mrs. Gunderson’s class. It was great. I was at the top of the heap. This was the grade level that Dr. Boaden took me and several other students, courtesy of the Kiwanis club, to Disneyland. I loved it. I knew that there had to be more to life than what I’d seen at home.
Then I went to La Cubre Jr. High for 7-9 grades. Blue and gold were our colors. I remember Mr. Parker, my Spanish and Yearbook teacher; Mr. McEcheon my English teacher; Mr. Cudney my science teacher. I was given a complimentary copy of the yearbook in 8th grade and in 9th grade I worked on Yearbook Staff. Mr. McEcheon was my mass media teacher too. I started learning some of the basics about marketing and advertising and the hype that’s used. When discussing it with my dad, he determined that my mind had become poisoned. I affirm that my mind had become opened. In 9th grade I was nominated and accepted into the National Junior Honor Society. Dad and Mom were so proud, they showed up for the program that was held in the auditorium. Mom made me a new dress (off white with burgundy ribbon) and Dad had a corsage of a dozen baby roses made and delivered to the school for me to wear.
Santa Barbara High School, the mighty Dons, was my next stop. Olive green and gold were our colors. I joined the Usherettes. We helped usher people to their seats at plays and at football games. I also joined the girl’s rifle team. This was the first year of its existence. We met at the ROTC firing range. I was good, an expert shot. Teachers? Can’t remember his name, but a black man taught my 1st year of typing. I got a D progress report. Turns out he did that routinely for nearly the whole class to get people to sweat a little and try harder. I nearly dropped the class when I got it. In 11th grade I had taken a class in the spring that was a about current events. Mr. Henderson. Classes started I had been there for about 3 weeks when my little brother was killed. Upon my return to class, he mentioned the accident, someone asked for clarification, he mentioned the last name, I turned white, felt sick to my stomach and left the class, without permission. Fortunately, my friend Cindy French was in that class. When the teacher called to me to stop me, she spoke up, “That was her brother.” She came out, said the teacher was sorry, please come back in. I wouldn’t. I never stepped in that class again. I went to the counselor and transferred out. In 12th grade I took an art class. We worked with Paper Mache, clay, cardboard, paint (not canvas), lots of different stuff. I really liked the class.
During the spring of 12th grade I talked with some members of the Church about college, they’d brought it up. They said I should go to Ricks College, just write to Ricks, Rexburg, ID 83440. I did and got a response with an application. I talked with the counselors at school and they said they’d wished I’d talked to them sooner; maybe they could have gotten me a better scholarship. Overnight there was one turned in (someone got something better) and she divided it between me and another student. I filled out the paper work for the scholarship, and for Ricks. I had to get my teeth taken care of. He used my savings money to buy paint and supplies to paint the dentist office to pay for my dental work-I don’t know how many cavities I had. I had 4 impacted wisdom teeth. The Church paid for it. It was a different doctor who could do the surgery. I tried to go back to school for my typing class after the surgery, but ya know, it didn’t work. I had to go home.
I went to Ricks College and loved the experience. I met a Jew. Schmuelich was his name, it was a nick name for Schmuel or Samuel. We had a very interesting discussion about Jesus Christ. I finally said to him, “Whether you believe in Him or not, it does not change the fact that He is the Son of God, that He lived, died on the cross for all mankind and died and was resurrected.” I remember clearly the Holy Ghost giving me those words.
I then attended Monroe Elementary there in Santa Barbara, CA. There are lots of memories of that school. The teacher taught me how to write my name. A TV star of “The Cisco Kid” came to the school and did a show on the playground with his horse and rope tricks. The fire truck coming and everyone getting red fire hats. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Hildebrand, having us make frosting to decorate cookies for Halloween, I was in charge of stirring the frosting and I think I ate half of it! My 2nd grade teacher, Miss Hanmore, using popsicle sticks to teach me how to do addition and subtraction-it was too abstract a concept and I just couldn’t get it. Sometime toward the end of the school year I started doing a despicable thing. I began taking the lunch money of some of the other students so I could have lunch too. I mean we had lunches we took with us. A Velveta™ sandwich with Miracle Whip™ and sometimes we got an apple to go with it. 3rd grade was Mrs. Brady. Mrs. Diller (the killer) was my 4th grade teacher. She was great. She was strict, but that was where I found the most safety and the greatest peace. She provided a tremendous environment for learning. It was during this grade level that I was found out about the lunch money thing (I didn’t take it everyday) and the principal, Dr. Richard Boaden called me into his office and talked with me about integrity and moral values. He told me to come in during the 2nd morning recess and he’d give me a couple of cookies and go to the lunch room and they’d give me a milk and at lunch time recess I could go to him (he sold popsicles on the play ground) and get an empty popsicle box from him and go around the playground picking up papers and I could earn a popsicle. 5th grade was Mrs. Heron. She got me involved in a club called “We Never Guess, We Always Look It Up.” That was a program that afforded me those things I wasn’t getting at home. It filled in some loose gaps in my education. This was the grade level where I went to school once too often with a black eye and the teacher reported it, again, to the principal, who debriefed me and then invited the plain clothed police officers to come visit with me. This was the grade level when Dr. Boaden would let me leave class about 15 minutes before lunchtime and go to the cafeteria. I’d get a free hot lunch and then I’d wash dishes in the kitchen to pay for my lunch. I was in heaven. I got to have spaghetti, or mashed potatoes and gravy, and salad (something I’d never experienced) and French fries. Oh, life was good. And I could feel good about myself. 6th grade I was in Mrs. Gunderson’s class. It was great. I was at the top of the heap. This was the grade level that Dr. Boaden took me and several other students, courtesy of the Kiwanis club, to Disneyland. I loved it. I knew that there had to be more to life than what I’d seen at home.
Then I went to La Cubre Jr. High for 7-9 grades. Blue and gold were our colors. I remember Mr. Parker, my Spanish and Yearbook teacher; Mr. McEcheon my English teacher; Mr. Cudney my science teacher. I was given a complimentary copy of the yearbook in 8th grade and in 9th grade I worked on Yearbook Staff. Mr. McEcheon was my mass media teacher too. I started learning some of the basics about marketing and advertising and the hype that’s used. When discussing it with my dad, he determined that my mind had become poisoned. I affirm that my mind had become opened. In 9th grade I was nominated and accepted into the National Junior Honor Society. Dad and Mom were so proud, they showed up for the program that was held in the auditorium. Mom made me a new dress (off white with burgundy ribbon) and Dad had a corsage of a dozen baby roses made and delivered to the school for me to wear.
Santa Barbara High School, the mighty Dons, was my next stop. Olive green and gold were our colors. I joined the Usherettes. We helped usher people to their seats at plays and at football games. I also joined the girl’s rifle team. This was the first year of its existence. We met at the ROTC firing range. I was good, an expert shot. Teachers? Can’t remember his name, but a black man taught my 1st year of typing. I got a D progress report. Turns out he did that routinely for nearly the whole class to get people to sweat a little and try harder. I nearly dropped the class when I got it. In 11th grade I had taken a class in the spring that was a about current events. Mr. Henderson. Classes started I had been there for about 3 weeks when my little brother was killed. Upon my return to class, he mentioned the accident, someone asked for clarification, he mentioned the last name, I turned white, felt sick to my stomach and left the class, without permission. Fortunately, my friend Cindy French was in that class. When the teacher called to me to stop me, she spoke up, “That was her brother.” She came out, said the teacher was sorry, please come back in. I wouldn’t. I never stepped in that class again. I went to the counselor and transferred out. In 12th grade I took an art class. We worked with Paper Mache, clay, cardboard, paint (not canvas), lots of different stuff. I really liked the class.
During the spring of 12th grade I talked with some members of the Church about college, they’d brought it up. They said I should go to Ricks College, just write to Ricks, Rexburg, ID 83440. I did and got a response with an application. I talked with the counselors at school and they said they’d wished I’d talked to them sooner; maybe they could have gotten me a better scholarship. Overnight there was one turned in (someone got something better) and she divided it between me and another student. I filled out the paper work for the scholarship, and for Ricks. I had to get my teeth taken care of. He used my savings money to buy paint and supplies to paint the dentist office to pay for my dental work-I don’t know how many cavities I had. I had 4 impacted wisdom teeth. The Church paid for it. It was a different doctor who could do the surgery. I tried to go back to school for my typing class after the surgery, but ya know, it didn’t work. I had to go home.
I went to Ricks College and loved the experience. I met a Jew. Schmuelich was his name, it was a nick name for Schmuel or Samuel. We had a very interesting discussion about Jesus Christ. I finally said to him, “Whether you believe in Him or not, it does not change the fact that He is the Son of God, that He lived, died on the cross for all mankind and died and was resurrected.” I remember clearly the Holy Ghost giving me those words.
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