Update 12-12-06

Hi,

A couple of notes, and then some more memories from the Alumni Association's Memory Book.
   
    From Barbara Blitfield Pech:  Mr. O'Brien is too kind in offering his generous words.  He and I have corresponded and have shared a very dear exchange of notes that I will forever cherish.  Again, thanks for the continued time, effort, and all considerations made to keep the class of '65 page active and the people connected.  That has made my life truly one of giving thanks, not only for all that I have, but for all the good friends that I have in it.
   
    From Carol Ewig Duran, to Judy Hartstone:  Regarding the snow storm in the Midwest -- the news about our snow is similar to the news about the rain in the Northwest.  It's been severe in some areas, and in others, there's been none at all.  The city of Chicago only had a few inches of snow, so being close to Lake Michigan has many advantages.  Let's not mention the temperature, though.  Regards to all.
   
    And the memories:
   
    From Helen David, South's first female science teacher:  My memories of South High School go back before the mid-fifties.  I was visiting a friend on Saddle Rock Road, who took me to the backyard of her new home and pointed to, as I recall, a meadow-like area.  She told me that a high school was going to be built there.  Oddly enough, she didn't remain in the area long enough for her two daughters to attend.
        We had a home across Rosedale Road in the Hewlett-Woodmere school district.  In time, by the insistent pounding of the pile driver, I was well aware that preparation for construction of South High School had begun.  When the tower of the furnace was built, I could see it from our windows.  Little did I know that Valley Stream South High School would become part of my life.
        At that time, I was on maternity leave from Washington Irving High School in Manhattan.  When I learned that South High School, which consisted of seventh through tenth grades, was planning to add an eleventh year at the school, I thought to myself, "Why not check this out?"
        My interview with Mr. Bergen, the principal, was probably one of the most unusual.  I had walked there with my three-year-old daughter, and, unexpectedly, Mr. Bergen was available to meet with me at that moment.  He grabbed my daughter and she remained transfixed on his lap for the length of the interview.  I often wondered how different things would have been if my five-year-old son had been with me, in her place.
        Mr. Stem, the science department chair, was adamant about accepting a female science teacher.  However, Mr. Bergen insisted that there should be a woman in the all-male science department and that was I.
        Twenty-six teachers were hired for the 1957 – 1958 year.  Several others remained until their eventual retirement.
        Surprisingly, in 1957, some members of the eleventh grade, the leading class, became unhappy because they were forced to be the precedent makers for three years: the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth.
        Our early graduates cried at leaving with their "home and shelter" for six years.  In later years, that also changed.  The restlessness in the senior year had them "itching" to get to the outside world.
        You will hear this from other faculty members:  we were a family.  We were all relatively young, as recruits to a new school would be, and we grew up together.  Our pupils, with exceptions, of course, were eager and cooperative.  Regretfully, the present celebrations came a year too late for me to participate, but naturally, my heart and mind will be with you.  In my mind, my former pupils are fixed in time.  I had all the Legends until we sold the Valley Stream house.  The graduates on those pages are who you still are ... teenagers forever.
   
    From Emily Kleinman Schreiber, '61: Back in junior high, I wasn't much of a risk taker.  The thought of trying out for the cheerleading squad seemed like it would lead to certain disaster.  After all, I didn't know how to do backbends, cartwheels, and splits.  So, I decided to take up baton twirling; the only risk involved was dropping the baton!
        There was one problem: I didn't know how to twirl.  I didn't even own a baton!  My mom found someone to help me.  She was Marianne Goldman, one of the lead twirlers who was three years older – in the class of ‘58.  When I met her again at the "Blast From The Past" reunion of South's first four classes (‘58 -- ‘61), she remembered our time together.
        We would practice down in the finished basement of my house on Columbine Lane in  Green Acres.  There was a record player down there and enough space to twirl, flip, and drop (the baton, that is).  By the time Marianne finished instructing me, I was able to twirl two batons!
        In order to become a twirler, I had to audition.  I remember standing out there on the gym floor feeling nervous, but fairly confident.  My two batons were ready to do figure eights and rollovers.  Once the song "Tequila" started to play, I was doing my routine.  No drops!  No fly-aways!  I made the junior twirling corps!
        As a junior twirler, I didn't get to wear the gray uniform with burgundy trim – just a white woolen turtleneck sweater that itched and left my neck as red as my hair.  The short red skirt was not a problem.  My first pair of twirling boots were white and had little tassels bounced up and down as we marched in the parades.
        The next year I moved up to the senior corps, got my uniform complete with hat, twirled at all the football games – including the North-South game that was televised!  – and marched in all the parades.  Once in a while, I did drop my baton, but I learned that all I had to do was pick it up and get back in step.  Isn't that what life is about?
        Historical note: about twirlers and why they haven't been at South for three decades.  Research told me that ... in the early 1930s, the drum majorette was unique and marched in front of the band to increase audience appeal.  Frequently, she was the only female in the parade.  The high prancing strut and the spinning baton added much color to parades.  Other girls, watching from the sidelines, decided that they, too, would like to be drum majorettes.  Therefore, the popularity and size of the marching groups grew and baton twirling became increasingly popular.  Through the ‘40s, ‘50s, and ‘60s, more and more girls and teens took up the sport.
        So ... what happened?  In 1972, Title IX legislation required schools receiving federal funds to provide girls equal opportunity to compete in sports.  Baton twirling became increasingly less popular due to increased sports opportunities.  Also a lot of marching bands were eliminated due to budgetary cuts.
   
    From Jeff Rosenfeld, ‘61: One of my fondest memories is that of Mr. Gibson and how much everybody loved him.  Back in those days (1957?), he was the only Black person many of us knew in all white Valley Stream.  But his color was not even a small factor in our relationship with him.  I am sure his presence in our youth had an enormous influence on our adult attitudes with racial bias.  I thank him for being there, at the infancy of our school consciousness, to teach by example that human kindness spans the spectrum of skin color.
        I specifically remember one class session with him, soon after we had moved into South High from Central.  It was an early winter, bright sunny day.  Alan Newman and I started shooting paper clips into the cork ceiling.  Mr. Gibson saw it but just laughed it off without a word of scorn.  Soon, though the ceiling had about fifty clips hanging down.  He still said nothing.  Failing to get a rise out of him, we "migrated" our desks, an inch at a time, toward the windows, which were on a wall adjacent to and at the same level as an adjoining flat-roofed section of the building.  Still no word.  "This has got to work, we thought," as we opened the window and lifted a desk out onto the roof.  We finally got his attention!  But still no scorn.  Just a mild request, with friendly humor, to replace the desk, which we did.  "This guy is something else," we said.  And he still is, God bless him!  And, bless Mr. Bergen for hiring this legendary teacher!