Fifty Years Ago
Sat., May 31, 10:37 AM
Years ending in 8 have always been significant for me in some way — not always good, but definitely significant — so you can understand why I am looking back fifty years at 1958. It was a weekend very much like this one, but it began a very special time for my friends and me.
We were seniors in high school, due to graduate, and the next couple of weeks promised to be filled with special events. Life goes on, of course; we still had to attend school, at least to be checked in as present. Most of the traditional activities were scheduled during school hours, since many of us had jobs or other afterschool responsibilities. We were looking forward to Field Day, Yearbook Day, and Report Card Day, all leading up to the Senior Prom and, of course, the Graduation ceremonies. Though I don’t remember it specifically, there must have been a rehearsal for Graduation.
Field Day was an outdoor athletic event specifically for seniors. Many students who never participated in extra-curricular sports would be running or jumping, in events you would see at any track meet. Those who took second place to talented underclassmen all year long would have their day in the sun. All seniors were excused from class that morning; if we weren’t competing, we were cheering on our friends from the grandstand. I have no recollection of who won which events; I only know that we all had a wonderful time.
Yearbook Day was another tradition in our school. Everyone, not just seniors, ordered our books earlier in the year, and they were distributed in home room, immediately after the morning exercises. We would attend every class that day, not to study but to be sure we could get autographs from everyone we knew, teachers included. After school, many seniors visited teachers from previous years, because we wanted them to sign our senior yearbook as well. I don’t know where my other three books are, but I could still put my hand on my senior yearbook at a moment’s notice.
Did any other high schools give out their grades the way we got ours? I don’t know, though it must have been easier on the teachers. The report cards — the very same pieces of paper that would be sent to our parents — were handed out in home room. In each class they were collected by the teacher, who would write in the grades and return them to us. At the end of the day, we brought them back to the home room teacher, who would complete them — attendance figures and so forth — and give them to the office for mailing.
One of the dangers of this system was that each teacher saw how well you had done in the classes you had already visited. When I was a sophomore, one teacher actually told me that she was marking me down, because if I could do A work in geometry, I could have done A work in her class too. (Actually, I could not; geometry was automatic and fun. This woman was even more difficult than her classwork was.)
Of course, by the fourth quarter of senior year, marks were pretty much of a formality. You knew you had passed, because you (and your parents) would already have been notified if you were in any danger. The only question was exactly which mark it was, and if you really needed the higher one to make the grade for college — to which you had probably been accepted already — the teachers knew it and acted accordingly.
Rehearsal for graduation was a necessity because the classes were always large. The procession consisted of groups of ten couples. If everyone in our class walked, there would have been twenty-five such groups plus a few extras. I never saw the end of the line, so I couldn’t tell you if there were any stragglers.
Proms were always held on Friday nights, as I have described elsewhere. None of this thousand-dollar evening stuff; the boys’ expenses were for the tickets, tuxedo rental, and flowers for their ladies. They borrowed cars, usually from parents, and maybe two or three couples rode together. Nobody got drunk, and drugs were not yet fashionable. Afterwards smaller groups went to late-night restaurants and maybe to someone’s home. Whether we listened to music or actually napped, we were resting up for the second half of Prom Weekend, which was always a day at Playland. On Saturday night, our bunch finished up by going to my house to watch “Have Gun, Will Travel” and “Gunsmoke,” two of the most popular shows of that year.
On the Saturday (May 31, just like this year) before the Big Week, Bunny and A and I were planning to spend the evening as we often did when nothing special was planned. We would get together — just the three of us this time — and work on our embroidery. So, after I had finished work and had supper, my sewing box and I were dropped off at A’s house.
I was full of some story to tell about what had transpired at the library that day, but it was eclipsed by a loud “Surprise!” as a dozen or so people came in from the other room. I would turn eighteen on Monday, but that day was already scheduled. This was the first real birthday party I ever had, and it was organized not by my family but by my good friends. To tell the truth, I went through the next couple of weeks in a warm glow, and I am surprised that I remember as much as I do.
Yes, on the eleventh, I think — we were postponed a day by rain — we did indeed graduate. We put on our rented caps and gowns and paraded to the football field, and we went from students to alumni. (We were reminded that we were not to toss the tassels on our mortarboards because we were not receiving degrees. No one seems to know that any more.) We returned the caps and gowns but were allowed to keep the tassels as souvenirs. Oh, yes, I should tell you that we dressed. No one wore blue jeans under their robes.
Then we went on with our lives. About 40 percent of us started college, though many dropped out after the first year. We held jobs, got married, raised families. Just like “real people.”
I have already received a pre-invitation for our fiftieth reunion, but I have no intention of going. I suppose it was bound to happen in a class of that size, but those people are not my people.
Many of you have kids or grandkids graduating from high school this year, with all the difficulties that go with it, from planning to safety to the exorbitant cost. It seems to have been a lot simpler, back in the day.
