1958 – 59 • La Habra ~ I knew the way to Sierra Vista Elementary; up our street two blocks, left at the corner, then six blocks up the hill. My grades improved and I became a “B” student in Mr. Powell’s fifth grade room. He had a way with kids: when any of the boys disrupted class, he’d grab them by both upper arms and shake them so hard their teeth rattled. The girls didn’t get hollered at or shaken because he knew we’d cry. Our teacher was interested in two things, keeping order and teaching art: charcoal and chalk, line drawing, and watercolors. For a fifth grader, some of mine were pretty good. Randy told me my watercolor of the Oakland Bay Bridge was still on the board nine years later when he was in Mr. Powell’s class. I liked Mr. Powell even though I was afraid of him when he yelled. He taught me perspective.
We sat in alphabetical order, and I had the biggest crush on Jon Byerrum who sat in front of me. I had this weird desire to skim his greased flattop so I could see how it felt on my palm, but I didn’t—nor did I look at, talk to, or smile at him. I didn’t want him to know I liked him.
Debbie started kindergarten the same year so we walked to school together. Mrs. Proud was her teacher. As Debbie got out earlier every day, she walked home by herself. None of the other kindergarteners walked with her because they always wanted to race, so one day she took the bus to beat them but she never got off, and ended up back at the school. Everyone looked for her when she didn’t show up at home and she caught holy hell when she did. That was the same year she set out to sell Campfire nuts door-to-door in her Blue Bird outfit and got sidetracked playing with a neighborhood girl. After being gone for a couple of hours, Carleen frantically called the police to help search for her. She was found by one of the neighbors, happily playing jacks in her little blue skirt and cap, white shirt, and red vest. She caught holy hell that time, too. She also hadn’t sold any boxes of nuts.
to be continued…
© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
Bonnie Brantley says
I had a terrifying 3rd grade teacher, she would scratch the backs of the hands of kids who were offending her. The scratches would draw blood. She would put masking tape over kids mouths. Whew, glad those years are gone!
Catherine Sevenau says
That is a scene out of the Harry Potter series, Order of the Phoenix. Professor Dolores Umbridge has come back to haunt us…
Susan Dalberg says
I had to laugh at your school picture hair. Did your sister style it for you? Mine did, damn it, every year, because mother was missing or not sober enough to do it, so my sister, five years older, without one ounce of talent, would try. More than one year I went with terribly uneven bangs, or stand out curls like yours that had been left in my curly hair all weekend! Thanks for the laugh!! Funny how we can remember the name of those first boyfriends-mine was Bobby Fortner and he just made it so hard for me to even speak when he was around! (fourth grade).
Catherine Sevenau says
Of course my sister did my hair.
Susie Price says
How could anyone not have a crush on Jon!?! I remember Jon giving a speech as a freshman in English class at La Habra High, and his 14 year old voice kept cracking. The teacher put a book in front of his face to hide his silent laughter. Poor Jon. Now he is a retired public school district superintendent. Somewhere in between being a 14 year old and a retired school superintendent, he had a guru and lived on an ashram – as did many in our generation. Talkin’ ’bout my gen… gen… gen… generation … 🙂
Catherine Sevenau says
Parts of our hearts still love Jon! Enough for me to name my son after him, albeit a longer version.