Ahhhh, the 1960s....a decade in contrasts. Lines of sleek modernity marked the period as much as animated accessories worn by both people and automobiles. Easter Sunday frocks with layers of crinoline and what we called 'net' swish under hats and gloves in front of Plymouth's finest fins.
On this first day of summer 2014 I'm thinking back a few years to the school days of our youth as I share the following thoughts:
See.....look.....go.
Such
simple verbs, but they set the stage offering fundamentals to tackle a world of
problems. Commencement speakers annually take the stand this time of year and fill the air with
advice to graduates about looking forward and looking back: We distil life's
essence and dispense it in measured doses at graduation.
Looking
back, what early impressions linger from our school days?
As
first graders in 1961, our generation perched at the apex of the language peak
shaped by Dick, Jane and Sally. We Look and See and We Come and Go: these basic readers paved the way for
us.
80%
of first graders who were learning to read were reading Fun with Dick and
Jane. We knew Spot, Puff, Tim, Mother, Father, even Zeke the gardener. But
all things must change, and the series suffered a precipitous decline in sales
in the late 1960s. Having insufficient defense to charges of representing
middle class, white America, Dick, Jane and Sally were g-o-n-e.
We
come and go alright; Dick and Jane were casualties of a cultural war.
After
falling out of favor for content and caught in the cross-fire of cultural
hostility through the 60s and 70s, there was a surge in popularity of the
little books that taught Americans to read since the 1930s. Dick and Jane were
hot again in the late 1990s, but only as memorabilia. They were mere artifacts
of a bygone era, devalued to souvenir status.
Leaving
the debate of language instruction methods to reading specialists, most of us
can still remember two things after all these years: the name of our first
grade teacher and Dick, Jane and Sally.
Some
relationships matter.
No
one likely remembers who won the chemistry award or class favorite. But that teacher—dare
I say a woman—who greeted the class each day of first grade in sensible shoes
and who walked with purpose in every step, we remember her. She held sway over
our class of 30 six year olds with not one assistant in sight. And she did it
handily.
Elementary
school pictures back then showed girls in dresses, boys in pants, and blackboards
or green chalk boards on the wall topped by illustrated alphabet handwriting
posters. Dusting erasers was a necessary task for the chosen few who got to
beat the chalk dust out of those felt pads against a brick wall.
Back
then kids played on the now-banned merry go ’round and lived to tell about it.
Recess meant playing jump rope, dodge ball and hopscotch not texting and
sending photos via iphone. The Princess phone had not even been invented yet,
so forgive me for not understanding why first graders need a cell phone today.
Pantsuits—but
neither pants nor jeans—became an option about 1971 for many across the state. Yes, polyester was rising to its zenith, but
fashion was only the tip of the iceberg.
Students
in the late 60s in Mississippi saw changes in school desegregation and social
structures leading to sweeping curriculum revision—every action creating an
equal and opposite reaction. This pressure on all sides combined to cause the ultimate
demise of the little books that taught us how to read. The verdict: Too white,
too suburban, too post-war America, “See Spot run,” had run its course.
Life
is a lot like maps: it all depends upon where you draw the lines. And somebody
is always drawing the lines. For this reason, we need to apply our hearts unto
wisdom. My first grade teacher was among those who taught us that—back when you still could, that
is.
She also taught us to recite each morning the 23rd Psalm and the 100th Psalm along with the Pledge. Repetition is not the highest form of learning, but there is something about impressing words upon a heart that offers a wellspring of consolation when drawing from it later. Mrs. Howard was not merely teaching us to read, she saw her job as teaching young people how to live in a world that would change more rapidly than the one she had already experienced.
The
day will surely come when others will declare our methods faulty and our
materials flawed.
Some future generation may dismiss us as irrelevant on account
of age alone.
Our lives, if they are to
matter, must represent more than a relic of by-gone days, more than shiny chrome bumpers and tail fins. As we pass along
insights to those who come behind us packed into the little verbs that first taught us go, look and see, may we
leave in our wake a legacy of loving relationships and faithful commitment in
our pursuits.
"Be careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise—making the most of every opportunity..."
Ephesians 5:15,16
