In my last post (part 3) I failed to mention 5th grade, so I’m going to digress a little bit before moving on to Jr High. When I got promoted to 5th grade, my hope was to get Mr. Johnson for my teacher – he was the only male teacher other than Mr. Gordon, who was the principal. I was lucky, Mr. Johnson was my fifth grade teacher. Fifth grade was memorable for two reasons.
On Fridays, after lunch, we had one heck of a math problem to solve. This math problem was written on a long narrow sheet of butcher paper. These problem sheets were attached to the top of the blackboard and when the clip holding the sheet was released, the problem cascaded to the bottom of the blackboard – that was a single math problem. Very seldom did any of us get it correct. One had to remember the order of operations.
I was voted to play Daniel Boone in the school play about Daniel Boone. I guess I was voted the part because of my name. I was so excited to be playing this part that when I got hone, I plopped myself down on my bed and memorized all my lines that night. One of the more exciting aaspect for me to play the part of Daniel Boone was being able to handle Mr Johnson’s period black powder Kentucky rifle.
The play was a success and I received many accolades for my performance.
Well, well, in 5th grade I had my social problems and like kids during that time resolutions were usually settled on the playground with a fight. But back in those days my father had said “Don’t you ever start a fight, but if you get into one I expect you to finish it.” Fights were usually resolved by the teacher, but there was the one time I was sent to the principal.
Sitting outside Mr. Gordon’s office, his secretary said to me, “What did you do this time Daniel?” But before I could answer I was called into the inner sanctum of the principal’s office – “oh boy, I’m in for it now” I thought.
Mr Gordon said, “Daniel, if you get into one more fight, I will have to call your parents and I will suspend from school for the week.” Oh my God, not my parents, my dad would “kill me.” So with that reprimand I behaved myself for the rest of my elementary school days.
It was during my year in 5th grade that my father began to look for a place to build his own home instead of renting one side of the duplex in Glenncliff. His search for a suitable piece of land to build his home first took him to La Jolla.
Slide show (20 slides) of “The ‘trail’ of airplane photos hanging on the wall were planes that Convair built.” Click here