The Power of the Pen

When I was in 9th grade, our school did something that was very forward-thinking for our day. They took a group of honors students and put them into a "Functional Math" class. The idea was that in two years we would cover all the material that the other students would cover in three years--Algebra, Geometry, and Trigonometry. The first year our teacher was Mr. Woodbury. We loved him and we knew he cared about us. We worked hard and tests showed that we were doing well and were on a trajectory to successfully complete the class. The second year, Cedar High hired a new (very young) math teacher and assigned him to our class. We missed Mr. Woodbury. This Mr. Baxter didn't know us (or our families) and from him we sensed the same affection that he might have felt toward a rutabaga. It soon became clear that we were on a collision course. Some students fired spit wads at him. Others banged on the side of their desks or howled like coyotes. I don't remember any specific behavior that I exhibited, but he claims that I was tardy 24 times, and that's not good. This was my group of friends, and so I'm sure that at the very least, I was guilty by association. At the end of the second grading period, he decided to wield the power of the pen and gave 17 of us failing grades.

I was devastated! I walked straight out of class to the phone booth in the hall, shut the door, called my mom, and burst into tears. It created a huge hullabaloo that resulted in our parents having to come to school for a meeting with the teacher and the principal. In the end, it was decided that Mr. Woodbury would teach our class for the remainder of the year. Mr. Baxter did not return the following year. The failed grade has never been a big deal to me. It certainly didn't represent my ability as a student. But Mr. Baxter wrote something on the back of my report card that's been in my mind for 50 years. He said that I was a very selfish child and that it would probably affect me for life. I confess that a million times (give or take a few), I've come to the realization that I was being selfish (You're shocked, I know!). And how many times have I thought to myself, "He was right. It has affected my whole life. How could he have known? At age 16 was it so obvious that even a near stranger could see it!"

The other day I was organizing some memorabilia and ran across that report card. There was the big black F right next to the A he had scribbled out. I flipped the card over and read, "Judy is a very spoiled child." Spoiled? Not selfish? Spoiled? I confess that there are lots of labels that could be appropriately applied to me -- selfish, stubborn, stupid, insensitive, proud. But spoiled? Never! I grew up in a family with seven kids and very few frills. My parents had very high expectations of us, and we were all compliant and worked our fingers to the bone in everything we did to make sure they were not disappointed. We paid our own way, and any growing up "toys" we might have had (such as a hi-fi or a Brownie camera) were paid for out of our own baby-sitting money. I learned to sew and almost everything I ever wore was made by me or my mother. I got my first wrist watch when I was sixteen years old. We never asked for money. We even paid our own way through college. Spoiled we were not!

I am really sorry that we were such stinkin' rotten teenagers, and I hope that Mr. Baxter went somewhere else and was a successful math teacher. I wish that I could go back and be sixteen again with the knowledge and experience I now have. I'd do things differently. But I'm also sorry that one sentence written on the back of a report card (incorrectly remembered) has caused 50 years of anguish. The report card is now a non-issue. However, that little word "selfish" is still an issue. I'm working on it!