Well, being Latino, his name was most likely Jorge (pronounced WHORE hay...I remember a Latino kid named George...he Always called him WHORE hay....
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Well, being Latino, his name was most likely Jorge (pronounced WHORE hay...I remember a Latino kid named George...he Always called him WHORE hay....
Fortunately for me, I got along quite well with mot of my high school teachers. We had a special breed back in those days (the early '70s) at Heights High, sometimes known as Hippie High. A couple of the better known alumni include Jimmy Fox and Todd Sharp.![]()
Yikes, that's rough. I can't even blame my rudimentary-at-best math skills on trauma. Just always was a words guy, not a numbers guy.Math teachers and I never got along. That's partly on account of having lost all my arithmetic skills in an accident (concussion, contusion, fractured skull, aphasia &c). Portable calculators became available around 67-8, and are the only way I could pass a test. That's true to this day.
We had a dress code in public schools. No jeans, no long hair, girls couldn't wear trousers unless doing some after-school activity. My parents had to go argue with the principal when he wanted to kick me out in my senior year for growing a moustache. A proper moustache it was, too. I still remember one line from the section on boys' hair: "No ducktails, fenders or sideburns."Woe betide the kid who had to excuse themselves from seventh and eighth year math class for their music lesson. That teacher hated music students. This has 1967-8 written all over it. School discipline was strict, no doubt a reaction to the "hippie" thing going on out there. Inside, we kids belonged to them until the school bell.
Well, being Latino, his name was most likely Jorge (pronounced WHORE hay).
If you can’t do math, life will never add up.
We had a dress code in public schools. No jeans, no long hair, girls couldn't wear trousers unless doing some after-school activity. My parents had to go argue with the principal when he wanted to kick me out in my senior year for growing a moustache. A proper moustache it was, too. I still remember one line from the section on boys' hair: "No ducktails, fenders or sideburns."
Yeah, I grew up with that last name. There's not a Bates joke you can make that I haven't heard a hundred timesA girlfriend in high school had a last name of Bates; we did sometimes call her father Master Bates!
What about the famous Jeff Scott?
We had a dress code in public schools. No jeans, no long hair, girls couldn't wear trousers unless doing some after-school activity. My parents had to go argue with the principal when he wanted to kick me out in my senior year for growing a moustache. A proper moustache it was, too. I still remember one line from the section on boys' hair: "No ducktails, fenders or sideburns."
You folks went to the wrong high school!They came down hard on girls who dared the skirt length rules. Noted that as a Good Kid, I stayed (mostly) below the radar of the school disciplinarians. That became a survival skill by the time I hit boarding school.
Eighth year students got typing lessons. They opened the class to boys the year before. Always opportunity for a Smart Girl who can type and take dictation for her boss. That a Smart Girl might be the boss is far out of consideration in 68.
You call those levels?
These are what we used on all the renovation jobs at the house: