One term they alloud us in the lunchenette across the street and the drug store on the corner. But we were too much of a public nuisense and caused a disturbance to the peace of the other eaters. So they disalloud it.
If we get in an accident during school hours it's illegal. Supposing a car hits us while going to lunch? Last year the school got sued because this boy was sent with a pass from a teacher to buy her some aspirin & got runned over. Now we all must suffer for it.
It's expensive to eat out of school. Still, they should let us. After all we're human too. So what if we knock a salt seller over or spill something by pushing each other or have a loud conversation in a restarant? Does that make us Juvenile Delinquents or sex manics?
Excuses and excuses and reasons and reasons is all they give us but I don't buy it.
They tried to add on 10 extra minutes for each eating shift to make it a real 1/2 hr lunch, but these minutes they had to cut out off other periods and the teachers said they couldn't afford to lose the 2 minutes off teaching time especially in Home Room.
One idea was brought out that when we brought lunch from home to have us eat it in the auditorium. But if we wanted to conclude our meal by bying milk or ice cream we couldn't do it. Also the auditorium usually shouldn't be as messy as a cafeteria. They would have to get an extra teacher to watch that we didn't get too messy.
What's the use of finding more chairs to eat when there aren't enough tables?
I'm beginning to see some of the problems McHabe has to face.
As a disciplinary measure, he wanted to call off the Thanksgiving Dance scheduled that evening in the gym, but the tickets had been bought, the school orchestra had been rehearsed, the punch had been prepared, and he was made to see that punishing many for the misdeeds of a few was not only undemocratic, but was likely to lead to another 'unwarranted outburst' on the part of the kids.
That afternoon I found on my desk a melting chocolate turkey and a card:
'A Happy Thanksgiving and many more
From the whole Room of 304.'
And that evening, at the dance (I was one of the chaperones) I could hardly recognize in the scrubbed, combed, brushed, dressed up and oh, so polite kids the same ones who had left the cafeteria a shambles.
The gym was garlanded with festoons and balloons and crepe paper ribbons wound around basketball baskets and light fixtures. The parallel bars, the wooden horses, the mats were pushed against the walls; in one corner sat the school orchestra, each musician in a purple blazer with a gold CC on it, and a purple and gold satin CC draped around the drum; in another corner a table had been set up with a bowl of muddy punch, paper cups, and several packages of Lorna Doone cookies.
The other chaperones—Bea, cozy and beaming; Mary, harried by extra duties—were pouring the punch. Henrietta, who, I was told, had never missed a dance, was absent. So was Paul.
But it was the boys and girls who were a revelation to me. The boys especially, for many of the girls come to class with elaborate hairdos and makeup. It was the first time I had seen the boys dressed in suits, jackets, ties; shoes shined; faces stiff with decorum. Each had his name written on an orange paper pumpkin (left over from last year's Hallowe'en Dance) and pinned to his lapel; each said with quiet solemnity:
'Good evening, Miss Barrett.'
By far the most polite—and the shyest—was Lou Martin, the cut-up, the class comedian. He had approached to ask me for a dance, his body rigid and tilting slightly sideways with excess of politeness:
'May I please have the pleasure?'
He danced me off, holding me as if I were a soap-bubble, his hand barely touching my shoulder-blade. Perspired, committed, urging me with his face rather than his feet into a respectful two-step, he made gallant conversation:
'Do you plan to indulge in a turkey? . . . It's quite pleasant, the gym, the way they fixed it up. . . . Are you enjoying your teaching here? . . . You dance very excellently.'
Ferone wasn't there, nor Eddie Williams, nor Vivian Paine; but Harry A. Kagan, the Students' Choice, was very much there, for the dance was sponsored by the G.O., of which he is president.
'These kind of affairs are rather childish, I think,' he confided in me as he propelled me firmly around the gym, 'but as long as it's for the G.O.'
But when the kids danced with each other, they let go with wild gyrations, fast hops, twirls, pelvic twists, and rubber-kneed acrobatics. Lou Martin and Carole Blanca executed with abandon something known as 'The Slop'; and Linda and Bob did an exhibition dance called, I think, 'The Frug.'
I loved them all last evening; especially Jose Rodriguez, who was not dancing, but who had paid his 75 cents for his ticket and had put on his best suit and had stood alone, waiting for an opportunity to speak to me. As he was about to leave, he took a deep breath, approached me, and said:
'I just want you to know how I feel about English. I think it's the greatest subject I ever had. I'm just — I just want you to know.'
There are times when I wouldn't change places with anyone.
I'm exhausted—but have to save my strength for next week: Midterm Exams to take home and mark over the four-day Thanksgiving holiday.
A happy one to you—and many more—from Sylvia Barrett in 304.
P.S. Did you know that there are more school children in New York City than soldiers in the entire U.S. Army?
S.
42. I’m Not Cheating, I’m Left-Handed
FROM: JAMES J. MCHABE, ADM. ASST.
TO: ALL TEACHERS
RE: MIDTERM EXAMINATIONS
THE FACT THAT THANKSGIVING FALLS WHEN IT DOES THIS YEAR IS CAUSING DIFFICULTIES IN MIDTERM EXAMINATION SCHEDULES. SINCE THERE WILL BE NO FINAL EXAMS, MIDTERM MARKS WILL COUNT AS 2/3 OF THE FINAL MARK. IMPRESS UPON YOUR STUDENTS THE IMPORTANCE OF ACHIEVING AS HIGH A MARK AS POSSIBLE. VIGILANT PROCTORING DURING THE EXAMINATIONS IS ESSENTIAL TO PRECLUDE ANY TEMPTATION TO CHEAT.
PROCTORING INSTRUCTIONS:
1. ARRANGE SEATS IN EXAMINATION ROOM IN ALTERNATE ROWS, ONE SEAT DIRECTLY BEHIND THE OTHER. A SEAT NOT PROPERLY ALIGNED PRESENTS THE POSSIBILITY OF AN UNOBSTRUCTED VIEW OF ANOTHER'S PAPER.
