Miss Perkins was my high-school English and music teacher at Viscount Bennett Jr-Sr High in Calgary, 1960-63. I knew her a bit as Marilyn after I graduated, but I think of her still as Miss Perkins, so that's what I will call her here.

When you spend some time as an English teacher, as I did decades ago, you discover that amazing numbers of people remember an old English teacher as an influence, and sometimes still an inspiration in their lives. Miss Perkins was that figure for me.

She was a small whirlwind of a person in person, filled with energy and cheer and especially ambitious for her "girls." At a time when most young women still felt immense pressure to define themselves through the men they might catch, Miss Perkins was a thumpingly independent woman, absolutely unaffected by other people's fears about middle-class respectability and propriety, although she was never censorious or anti-social. Indeed, as you'll see from her obit, she had much of Calgary organized into marvellous choirs of various kinds, and only stepped up that work after her retirement.

She had such bounce and courage. She has left thousands of us with the happiest memories, and grateful -- for the stories, the music, and especially for the example.

[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: skdadl ]

On the other hand, I had one English teacher in high school who is going to get a photocopy of my degree (if I ever get it! oh will it ever be over!) with "read it and weep, bitch!" scrawled across it.

Good thing I had more good teachers than bad, and the occasional real shining star. Any teacher would be proud to have one of their students remember them like Miss Perkins.

[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: Catalyst ]

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I had a grade 11 english teacher who was surprised that 1) I was planning on going to grade 13 and 2) that I was planning on University. She had the nerve to tell me that university should be reserved for people of a certain quality and class.

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I had a high school counsellor with a similar attitude. When we chose our electives for 10th grade, we had to meet with him. He looked at my choices (all university entrance path choices), and asked me what my parents education levels were and what they did for a living. Apparently not being dressed expensively made him suspicious. When he found out my mother the Avon lady had a grade 10, and my dad the painting contractor had his high school diploma, he clucked his tongue and said I really should be taking the business math and practical courses, like typing. I was nonplussed. "But I'm going to university -- I have straight As!" I told him. That I would question his judgement left him a little taken aback, and he tried to tell me I just couldn't. Wound up in a fierce negotiation where I traded French for Typing, but took all the other entrance classes.

I never considered sending him my BFA... Maybe I'll track him down when I get my MFA.

That being said, I had a number of very good teachers. My favourite was an art teacher who allowed me to experiment to my heart's content, without making me do much realism. I had an eye, but not the hand for realistic drawing. She gave high marks for risk-taking. I was most disappointed when she was replaced by a teacher who wanted faithful reproductions of magazine photos...

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: Zoot Capri ]

He's long since retired but has apparently evolved into a great local (Ottawa Valley) historian. I regret not looking him up when I was back there at Christmas.

Sorry about Miss Perkins, skdadl. Sounds like a wonderful person.

The other really influential English teacher I had was Barry Duncan at the School Of Experiential Education.

Both teachers clearly had their own strong opinions, but were democrats enough to allow/encourage their students to disagree with them.

[ 20 January 2003: Message edited by: BLAKE 3:16 ]

When I was thinking about Marilyn Perkins, I started remembering with a bit of a pang a whole series of other unmarried women teachers from my school years in the darkest fifties-sixties.

There was Miss Hawley, for instance, the French teacher who was willing to let us all laugh at her clowning in order to fix those forms and phrases in our tiny supercool minds. Even now, forty years later, Miss Hawley's grads will meet each other by chance in downtown Calgary and immediately break into choruses of

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DES bananes
DE grosses bananes
Il n'y a pas DE bananes

(to the tune of Comin' through the Rye)

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or

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Je me suis couche
Me suis-je couche
... etc

(to the tune of -- it'll come to me)

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(NB: Has anyone else ever actually used the construction "Me suis-je" in real life?)

Miss Hawley was a sprite, even more touched by the fairies than Marilyn. Then there was Miss Jago, our math (shudder) teacher and school vice-principal. Miss Jago was not loved by her students at the time, and I doubt few remember her fondly now. She was a rigid disciplinarian, and utterly unforgiving with weak students.

I learned to dread her as much as anyone else did, and of course I'd never copy her style now. But again, she was in the habit of taking aside any girl who showed promise and encouraging us: "Don't be afraid to be interested in math, skdadl." "Girls can study anything they want to, skdadl."

Well. Who knows how tough a time any of these women had back then? They came through it with different degrees and mixes of eccentricity or, sometimes, bitterness -- but I remember a lot of eagle eyes on students who showed the slightest interest or aptitude, and a lot of private encouragement, especially for the girls.

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Lethbridge or wherever?

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Med-i-cine HAT!!!!

I went to Killarney for one year (grade 6).

I remember a few of these schools but not all. I was still disoriented that first year in Calgary, and after that, the only culture I knew was the jr/sr highs.

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Med-i-cine HAT!!!!

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O dear. Teddibly sorry, skdadl. But then -- in my defence -- you lived in a few southern Alta. towns & cities, yes? I seem to recall the name of Bragg Creek being mentioned hereabouts, on occasion.