Chapter Seven

All in all, concert choir was a time of hard work mixed with a generous dose of fun.

My second favorite class, if you really want to call it second, was art. Ms. Burke was my art teacher, she didn’t have the same personality as Ms. Mac, but she made life easy in the classroom. She would teach us about the topic at hand, for instance, Impressionism and then she would turn us loose with a basic outline of the assignment. The work we generated was purely our own creation based on the area of art we were studying. see Photo 10  

In general, I would range between an A or B in the class. Ms. Burke and I differed in our opinion on what my work should look like! I was a realist! I liked creating detailed drawings in a pen and pencil medium. see "Pen & Pencil Drawings"  She wanted me to express myself more creatively. She never cut me down for my work but then those were the ones where I received a B. Unlike junior high school, I was not afraid to address the teacher… I was no longer spending my entire time keeping my head down and flying under the radar! When I finally asked her what was wrong with my pictures, she explained that she wanted me to stretch myself and to look at the different schools of art. So, I read through several art history books and found just the thing she wanted. Using Masonite, masking tape, and primary colors, I experimented with the principles of the Bauhaus movement and the techniques of Mondrian. Surprise, surprise I started getting all A’s. I really like the art classes because I got to look at the world through different lenses. I got to work with my hands, as well as my brain.

It should be no surprise that my favorite artists are Georgia O’Keefe, Claude Monet, Dégas, Vincent van Gogh, Matisse, and Renoir. That is not to say that I do not appreciate the modern artists, as well as the realists from the Hudson River School. I appreciated the free flow and wild abandonment in the work of these artists. And, I really appreciated the stark, microscopic detail of O’Keefe! She spoke to the budding naturalist in my heart. see Photo 11

Sadly, none of my good friends were in my art classes. My only “buddy” was Jan Christman. Strangely, she was the only person to ever strike me in school. Back in junior high school she sat several seats behind me in one class. She was tossing a note to her friend sitting in front of me and that note went into my open purse. Well, that didn’t make her very happy because I refused to pass the note forward. That hussy got out of her seat walked up to me and smacked me right in the face. The result was she got suspended and I had to explain what was going on. Three years later she’s like my best friend in art class, go figure. To this day I cannot tell you what was in that note! Holding a grudge serves no good purpose! see Photo 12

My other favorite class was taught by Mr. Hughes. When I took the class, I was not so sure he had all of his faculties, in fact, I thought he was quite mad. You see, he was teaching biology and would make it entertaining by tossing things like puff balls around the room or throwing a sponge from one student to another. He made both learning and life fun. Now whether that’s because I was more comfortable with myself or I was comfortable with the subject, I don’t know, but it was fun. I learned a lot and I learned to love science even more than I already did. Sadly, I only had Mr. Hughes for one year. I was still intimidated by mathematics and certain teachers so I opted to take physical science instead of Chemistry or Physics. see Photo 13

Since I had struggled in middle school, I didn’t get to be in the cool classes for history and English but that didn’t stop me from digging deeper into what we were being taught. For three years of English, I can only remember two of my teachers; one was Mrs. Bachman and the other was Ms. Washburn. While I remember Mrs. Bachman, I don’t remember much about her class. I assume I was a fairly average student making B’s, but I can’t really put my finger on it. see Photos 14 & 15  However, Mrs. Washburn made a lasting impression upon me! She was my senior English teacher and Lord have mercy, the only high school teacher to ever call home to my parents. We had required reading that included books like The Tale of Two Cities, Silas Marner, The Old Man and the Sea, and 1984. What no one knew about me at the time was that I lacked sight accommodation and was dyslexic. Not only that, but I was bored in class! Ms. Washburn had this bright idea that we should each read a paragraph of the book out loud. Well, when it came my turn, I didn’t know where we were in the book. You see, because I loved the book I was reading, I would be reading ahead. By the time she got to me, I was already one or two chapters ahead of the class.

So, Ms. Washburn called my mother and said, “Mrs. Robinson, I don’t think your daughter knows what’s going on in class, she’s not paying attention.”

Mama replied, “Have you asked Barbara what’s going on?” Mother was just finishing her degree in education at Old Dominion College and had discussed my learning with several of her professors. So, she had a fair idea of what I was doing in class.

When my mother asked me what was going on, I told her I was bored to tears and was really interested in the book. I was so interested that I was reading ahead of the other students. Sometimes I had already read the entire book. I finally had to tell Ms. Washburn what was going on and she was astounded. What no one knew was that I was reading like each word was the last word to ever be written and was struggling to keep the words from flowing off the page. It wasn’t until I was a senior in college that an ophthalmologist figured out what was going on. Glasses helped but never cured me of reading like doomsday was coming. This affliction will come back both to help and to haunt me in later life. 

If you recall, in middle school I stupidly took French. Not to be bullheaded, but I continued to try in high school. This was probably my most stupid move in education! Unfortunately, my teacher was a man named Mr. Soroko. see Photo 16  The man hated me. It wasn’t as bad as Ms. Kellog, but he did not have a great personality. It was rumored that he had something to do with the French Underground during World War II, but you couldn’t prove it by me. It took me three years to get two years of French. Surprisingly, years later, I found that I still remembered a considerable amount of that language. When I would spend time at a resort in Mexico the guys who worked in the cafeteria areas, the restaurants, and the public areas would try to teach me Spanish. However, when I would try to use what they taught me, it would come out as Spa-nch… a combination of French and Spanish. In the fall of 2024, I finally spent time touring in the province of Quebec. I was so surprised when a waiter asked me a question and I could respond in French. Later, he came to the table and started talking away. I put up my hand to stop him and laughingly told him I only spoke a little French. He told me that the way I responded to his first question, with such perfect diction and accent, he thought I spoke volumes of French. We had a great laugh and I told him when I had last taken high school French… 1966!

Back in the day, the Commonwealth of Virginia thought that every student should take drivers education in high school. It was not just the classroom part of driver’s education. No, we actually got behind the wheel of vehicles owned by the public schools. We drove around a prescribed course and eventually went out on the public highways! The car held three students and one instructor. So, I learned to drive a four-door pushbutton Rambler. Problem was the car my father had was a manual transmission Peugeot. Luckily, I used my boyfriend’s car to get my driver’s license.

My father did not believe that I needed to be driving a car. This was not because I was a bad driver, it was because my sister wrecked the family car. Chris was angry with my mother and was in a total snit. She left to go to work at Dunkin’ Donuts, went around a dark corner, and struck a parked car in the rear end. Hence, my lessons driving a manual transmission were put on hold. After a short time, my mother decided that I should be able to drive. So, she made up excuses for me to go to the store. So off I would go to the local grocery store to pick up bread and milk we didn’t need. Eventually my father calmed down and patiently taught me to drive a manual transmission. Later in life, when I was a camp counselor, driving a manual transmission vehicle paid off because no other counselor could drive a stick shift! That meant, because I had to chauffeur the other counselors to town, I got more nights off than the other counselors.

Mathematics was where I ran into teachers who remembered my sister. As you may recall, unlike my sister, I had no great love of mathematics. This was thanks to Maj. Rama and his misogynistic attitude. Back in middle school Mrs. Fisher tried very hard to instill a love of mathematics in my little pea brain. However, math still mystified and terrified me. Once I got to high school, the required courses included geometry, algebra two, trigonometry and solid geometry. Little Barbara jumped in with both feet… Show No Fear! I did okay in geometry where my biggest issue was proving theorems. I felt proofs were a total waste of time! I understood how angles work, I understood how other aspects of geometry worked, but, writing out the stupid postulates and theorems… who cared, certainly not Barbara! I made it through geometry with a B only because I couldn’t recite postulates and theorems verbatim. I now understand the purpose of theorems, postulates, and proofs! It is training the brain to think logically and to argue a point based on proven facts. 

Onward and upward algebra 2, trig, and solid geometry. This is where I met Mrs. Garris. She was a fabulous math instructor, almost as good as Mrs. Fisher. I understood everything she was talking about and the class was easy for me. I was making A’s in math and I was astounded. It was actually fun. But before I get carried away, I still was apprehensive, unsure of myself. As I said before, my fear of math made me terrified of taking advanced sciences like chemistry and physics. It would be several years before I ran into another hateful math teacher who drained the life out of me. see Photo 17 

I think, because of my father’s going to college while I was in middle school, I developed an abiding interest in history and political science. While at Norview I had to take two years of social studies; the first year was US history and the second year was government. 

I believe I had Mr. Benham for US history but I really don’t remember. I made it through the class, enjoyed the class, and forgot about what I learned. As a matter of fact, the one thing I do remember is never studying much about war. After the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812, I can tell you we did not study World War I, World War II, Korea, or Vietnam. This pattern will repeat again in college! see Photo 18

The social studies class I do remember was US government with Mr. Laird. He was actually a nice guy and an interesting teacher; if I’m not mistaken, he was retired military. He made sure we knew the inner workings of our three-tiered system of government and the importance of participating in our government. He made sure we knew democracy was not easy nor was it free. A democratic republic is messy and requires constant attention. I still remember the senior paper I had to write for his class. That research paper was on whether or not France should leave NATO and get out of Indo-China. see Photo 19

Three years at Norview high school sped by! Football games, concert choir, art exhibits, and dating all a blur. Of course, I haven’t said much about dating. The truth of the matter was that I was only allowed to go to the football games and basketball games. I had a curfew. I had one hour after the sports scores appeared on the news to get myself back home and in the house. That left me about an hour to go to the local McDonald’s with my boyfriend and get home. There would be no hanky-panky. My parents did let me go, with my boyfriend, to the matinee movie on Saturday. My parents did not especially like two of the guys I dated, George Gatewood and David Riley, but they absolutely adored Frank Whitman. Joke was on them; they thought he was such a good little boy because he was a church pianist. However, I referred to him as the octopus because, while he played a beautiful piano, he was all hands! I never told them until after graduation.

Speaking of graduation, I actually graduated high school the week after my mother graduated from college. I would like to say at least my mother never taught me in school but that wouldn’t be true. She actually taught classes in my elementary school when we lived in Bainbridge, Maryland. 

Something you may have noticed is I didn’t talk about guidance counselors and going to college. It seemed that all of the other students that I was friends with, like my neighbor Gail Langowski, were getting called down to guidance and they were talking about going to college and it suddenly dawned on me that they weren’t calling me to the guidance office. So, one night I said to my parents “you know I really want to go to college but I don’t know how to do that.” My father replied you need to go talk to your guidance counselor tomorrow! So, the next day, off I trotted to the guidance counselor and went to see Mrs. Dunwody. I specifically remember her looking up at me and saying, "Well, Barbara, I didn’t know you wanted to go to college, I didn’t think you were interested.” So, I got busy looking at colleges. Mrs. Dunwody said I was a little late but she would see what we could do. I applied to Richmond professional Institute (RPI) and Averett Junior College. Believe it or not, I was granted interviews and was accepted to both schools. see Photos 20 & 21

Being accepted at a college or school does not mean you will actually go to that school. When the acceptance from RPI came in the mail, my parents said absolutely not! The reasoning was something that came to light during my interviews. When we went to Richmond for the interview the first thing my parents saw was that the art school was down a back alley, on the second floor of an old carriage house, and located in the Fan District of Richmond, Virginia. The second thing that struck them was the fact that the head of the School of Art was not interviewing me, but his assistant was. When questioned as to the division head's absence, the assistant said, oh my goodness, Dr. so and so is not here because he had a heart attack. Okay, that was a reasonable excuse. However, she didn’t stop there! It seems the dance students, at an evening performance the night before, had done a performance of the “dance of the seven veils” in the nude! The poor man had walked in on that and …well, you can figure that out! There was just no way my father, a deacon in the Southern Baptist Church, nor my mother, the daughter of Evangelical United Brethren, was going to let their little daughter go to that kind of school. So off we went to interview at Averett Junior College, an all-girls Southern Baptist junior college. More to come on that front!

First it was time for fun in the sun!