Special to The Windham Eagle
On Friday June 14, 1963, my two years at Field-Allen Junior High ended with a softball game. It was the last day of school, and my fellow eighth graders and I were all invited to play. It was a friendly, non-competitive game involving both boys and girls, as we contemplated our imminent liberty from the books and our anticipation about the shining new high school which was being erected nearby on Route 202. The town had finally outgrown the old high school, and our class of 1967 would be the first group of freshmen to occupy the new structure.
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| The Field-Allen Junior High Science Fair from 1962 is depicted in the school yearbook. Back row, from left, are Michael (Max) Millard, Walter Hebold, and Stanley Andrews. Front row, from left, are Janice Taylor and Barbara Clark. COURTESY PHOTO |
Our science teacher, Mr. Bryer, would always spend a few minutes of class time arguing auto mechanics with our classmate Walter Hebold, whom he called the “walking encyclopedia.” They both had an intimate knowledge of the subject and tried to outdo each other using terms that left the rest of us dazzled. Walter was voted “Most Likely to Succeed” in the yearbook and fulfilled that promise. He went on to have a brilliant career as an inventor and the founder of Enercon Technologies in Gray, where he still works.
The principal, Mr. Jacques, was a stern disciplinarian who kept the school on track through his mere presence. We all dreaded being sent to “the bench,” meaning the wooden bench outside his office where we had to wait until he came out. Mr. Jacques had the misfortune of being born with a split lip, and when he got agitated, a glob of spittle would start jiggling from his upper to his lower lip. When he spoke rapidly, anyone standing close to him was in danger of being sprayed. If you got hit, you didn't dare wipe it off for fear of insulting him.
But those were innocent times, and no one got anything worse than a tongue lashing, or a detention. The most common offenses were gum chewing, talking in class, and running in the hallway. Some kids liked to play “gotcha last!” They would punch another student in the arm at the end of recess, trying to get in the last blow before the door closed. To maintain order, Mr. Jacques made everyone walk on the right side of the hallway, like cars in traffic. There would always be two lines, walking in opposite directions, separated to avoid collisions.
In one classroom assignment, everyone had to write a terse verse. Mr. Herrman gave us a famous example titled “On the Origin of Fleas.” The entire poem went: “Adam had 'em.” Steve Turkington was asked to stand up and read his creation, which he titled “The Principal Doing the Twist.” The class was reduced to near-hysterical laughter when Steve intoned, “Jacques shakes.”
An exciting innovation arrived when the school started buying individually wrapped sanitary straws for lunchtime. One could tap the straw on the table to break the wrapper, then blow through it, creating a missile. One student was hit in the eye by a flying wrapper and started bawling, He rubbed his eye so much that it turned red. The school nurse was called in, and though she determined that no permanent damage had been done, the offender was slapped with a three-day detention, which meant hanging around school for two extra hours each day.
Although most of the teachers were dedicated and fair-minded, they would occasionally misuse their authority, such as when a student asked permission to use the bathroom. That was too sensitive a word, so everyone would say, “Can I go to the basement?” – a curious phrase, since the bathrooms were located on the same floor as the classrooms.
When a student made the request in the middle of class, the girls would flush scarlet and the boys would snicker. Sometimes the teacher would look up at the clock, ponder for a moment, and finally answer “no.” That led to much distress and embarrassment, but was a practical lesson in how to plan ahead.
The teachers' salaries were listed in the town's annual report. and all came to $3,000 to $5,000 a year. To survive, they had to take summer jobs, and we would see them cashiering in stores, manning the toll booth at Sebago Lake State Park, or selling encyclopedias door to door.
Probably the most successful teacher was Mr. Norwood, a jokester whose running gag was: “You have a good point. But luckily your hair covers it.” In the summer he opened a thriving business in North Windham, Arctic Penguin Ice. He later sold it and retired to Florida, where he lives today.
I left Windham for New York City in 1976 to pursue a career that was out of reach for me in Maine. But on my trips back to Windham, I often talk with old classmates about the exceptional teachers at Field-Allen and the lasting lessons they taught us.
Max Millard is a retired journalist and teacher in San Francisco, California. Email: sunreport@aol.com <
