Thanks, John, for letting a foreigner (class of '68, for pete's sake) join the conversation. When I discovered this blog and your awesome memory, I did nothing but devour all entries in the entire blog for several hours. My wife became suspicious and said, "Are you doing high school stuff again?" She knows my BHS intensity too well.
Do you readers remember Mr. Schaefer, our band director after Arne B. Larson? Mr. Schaefer came to Brookings from Alexandria, MN, and the instant word was that he only took a $12.00 pay cut to do so. Even though South Dakota teacher salaries were much lower than Minnesota payscales, South Dakota's income tax absence meant only a minimal pay cut for him. We were so proud!
On Day One of Mr. Schaefer's teaching career in Brookings (had to be 1966), he told us in Concert Band about a swearing habit that he was trying to break. At home, he confessed, his family kept a coffee can at the ready, and he had to contribute a quarter every time he got angry and started swearing. On Day TWO of Mr. Schaefer's teaching career in Brookings, once again in front of the Concert Band, he grew very frustrated at our (meager?) rehearsal efforts. Finally, he whacked his music stand with his baton and shouted something like "Dammit, trombones!" Everyone froze, because, well, Arne B. had NEVER spoken like that! Dead silence. Suddenly, a quarter clanked into an empty coffee can. June Scholten, alto sax first chair, had been waiting for the opportunity, and Mr.Schaefer had obliged within minutes. The tension broke, laughter reigned for a minute or two, and Mr. Schaefer could only smile weakly and hope to regain control eventually.
You're welcome, Bob. All of us are BHS grads, so all are free to add any reasonable comments at any time. That incident reminds me of a couple of stories. Does anyone remember Mr. Anderson? He was the vocal music teacher for a few years, maybe from 1960-65. HIs wife was our 4th grade teacher. It seems as if one time when she was on hall duty, we read her lips as she muttered an obscenity. We didn't hear it, but we knew what she said. Her husband was our 7th grade music teacher. I seem to recall that , for a class exercise, he would play a recording of instrumental music and we would have to identify the instruments. One time there was a bassoon, so he walked slowly across the room as if he were Alfred Hitchcock. The theme music for his Tv show was played on a bassoon, so that was supposed to be the connection. In 8th grade, I heard a teacher use some coarse (at that time) language for the first time. It was at football practice. Our coaches were Mr. Kabrud and Mr. Jostad. During a drill, Mr. Jostad shouted at me "Knock him on his ass!" When I tried to do that to Bernie Hendricks, I was the one who went flying on his rear, as Bernie knocked the wind out of me.
ReplyDelete