When I came to Mitchell to teach high school social studies in 1982, technology at the high school consisted of a mimeograph machine for teachers to reproduce worksheets and handouts (there was a copy machine in the high school office but it was for the exclusive use of the office staff), 16mm projectors to show reel to reel films (like you see Corporal Klinger use to show movies in the television series M*A*S*H), a film loop machine for viewing historic footage, overhead projectors and a ¾ inch VCR connected to a television set on a rolling cart – one for upstairs and one for downstairs and you reserved them with Denny Nath in the MHS library. The tapes for that ¾ inch VCR resembled hard cover books. The VCRs you think of now as obsolete were the next generation after ¾ inch machines and used ½ inch VCR tapes. Personal computers were just coming on the scene for consumers in 1982 in a big way. However, in 1982, Mitchell High School had no computers. A couple of years later MHS had just one computer lab and that was solely for computer class instruction with computers nowhere else in the building. The computer room, Jerry Opbroek’s science room and the main office had air conditioning. There was no air conditioning anywhere else in the building. Starting school in August was a miserable experience. The computer room had AC because heat was bad for the machines and Jerry Opbroek’s room had it because he had critters living in his classroom as well as volatile chemicals stored there. The main office had air conditioning because nothing’s too good for school administrators. All telephones were landlines, there was still a number a person could call to hear the time and temperature and dialing 0 would get you a live operator and directory assistance.
I played baseball throughout my youth. I played football in middle school until the other boys got bigger, and I got taller, they got bigger, and I got taller, they got taller, and I got taller and then they got bigger. My experience with coaches as a player and as a volunteer coach myself (for kids younger than me) was the coach makes the decisions. That philosophy ended up getting me in trouble.
When I applied in Mitchell, it was to coach Debate (which I did starting the next year, in the fall of 1983 through school year 1991-92) and to teach social studies. In the interim between my application and interview, Ed Olson had been named the Principal of Litchfield Elementary (where Gertie Belle is now) and so was no longer the elementary physical education teacher and tennis coach. Under the contract clause, “duties as assigned”, Cheryl Myers was given back the Head Debate Coach job, and I became the Boys’ and Girls’ Tennis Coach. I got hired the last week of July and was to start tennis practice on August 6th. It was a bit of a scramble; I don’t mind telling you.
All went well for the first few weeks of tennis, then I made an executive decision as the coach. My varsity sixth flight player was struggling and the girl playing behind her at junior varsity seventh flight was doing better, so I flip flopped them without having them play a challenge match. At that time, I lived at an apartment at 1109 North Capitol, just down the block to the north of the high school and the tennis practice courts were right outside my door. (They aren’t there anymore; it is green space now.) I was walking back to my apartment during third period, my preparation period, to check my mail and have a snack when the Superintendent of Schools, Dr. Dennis Petersen, cruised up in his school car and rolled the passenger window down and told me to get in. Back then, the Superintendent got a “company car” for his personal and school use. Dr. Graves got rid of that perk when he became Superintendent in a cost cutting move.
Dr. Petersen took me for a drive around the lake to discuss my coaching decision. It seems the girl that I demoted from varsity sixth flight was the youngest child of the President of the School Board. Dr. Petersen explained to me how important it was to get along with the School Board and, while the decision was completely up to me, he hoped there could be some kind of positive resolution to the situation. All that was missing from this ride was Guido and Giuseppe sitting in the back of the vehicle. I got the message. I was being made an offer I couldn’t refuse, and so the situation was resolved; the School Board President’s daughter was back on varsity.
Corn Palace Week back then was a different time as well. It started on a Friday night, continued throughout that weekend and into all of the next week and then concluded the following weekend for a festival that lasted ten days. The Corn Palace Shows at that time featured one act for the week. In 1982, that performer was Red Skelton. He sold out every show. I had the good fortune to be in the audience for one of his performances and Red was a riot.
The concourse ran from 1st and Main to 12th and Main with the displays from 7th to 12th featuring more of the kind of thing that one sees at Dakota Fest now. I loved rides then. I’m older now and have had multiple eye surgeries, so carnival rides are no longer a thing for me. At my first Corn Palace Festival in September of 1982 (it always took place around the third week of September in those days), I was in line for The Zipper and the Carnie said I couldn’t go on it alone, I had to have a partner. A high school junior, Sharon Oehlerking, was behind me in line. She was alone too. So, the Carnie paired us up and we rode The Zipper together. It was a rollicking good time with Sharon screaming and both of us laughing our heads off. When the ride was over, we were discombobulated and staggered down the street together for a bit, still laughing with Sharon holding my arm for a moment so as not to fall over. They really shook and rolled you those days. After about half a block we parted with a “See you Monday” and went our separate ways. That was a Saturday.
On the following Monday Bob Brooks, then the high school principal, called me into his office with smoke coming out of his ears. It was before school; I hadn’t had time to do anything wrong, so I wondered what it was all about. He said simply, forcefully and angrily, “We don’t date students here.” I said something like, I knew that and wouldn’t. He cocked his head, much like a dog when the canine is trying to understand what you said. I felt I was encouraged to say more, so I added that my first few weeks were going well, and I thought I was developing a good rapport with students, but I understood the difference between friendly and friends as well as the line between teacher and student. Now, Bob was clearly flummoxed. He had cooled down a bit by this time and he asked, “What about your date with Sharon over the weekend?” It was my turn to be flabbergasted, “My what with who?” I responded. Bob then told me people had seen me “on a date” with Sharon Oehlerking at Corn Palace Week. I explained the Carnie and The Zipper and that was the end of it, with Sharon anyway.
My first year at MHS, I had ten pregnant girls in class. Not all in one class but spread throughout the day. At that time, MHS was on a seven period schedule with four lunches, open campus only for seniors and a school population, grades 10-12, of almost 1100 students. The school had yet to put on the addition to the east of the building (what are now the current math and some science rooms upstairs and the special ed and some English rooms downstairs). It was sardine time there for a while. Teachers, as a general rule, taught five academic classes and then had a duty period. My duty periods over the years included cafeteria supervision, hall duty, being the in-school suspension sheriff and boys’ locker room duty. The main purpose of boys’ locker room duty was to make sure the guys didn’t throw each other naked into the north parking lot. The other period was a preparation period used for changing bulletin boards, writing up board notes (all blackboards in those days), correcting papers, recording grades etc.
One of these pregnant girls came up to me in early October, her name was Jane. She asked me, “Why don’t you ever ask me any questions about my pregnancy?” I replied, “Because it is none of my business.” She said, “I’m overdue.” She looked it too. She was an attractive girl but big as a house in the last stages of pregnancy. She was so pregnant that a regular student desk was uncomfortable for her, so she sat at my desk with its roll out chair. Every time she bent over to tie her shoes or pick up a pencil, I thought she was going into labor.
From down the hall, my friend Doug Ellwein (an English teacher) came to my door breathless. “Mel, Mel – come here, COME HERE!” I said, “I’m in the middle of class, what is it.” He responded, “Lisa (another girl pregnant at the time) broke water in my room.” “What did you do?” I asked. Doug replied, as if I had asked a stupid question; “I sent her to the office to get a custodian to clean it up.” Meanwhile I had visions of a new born baby bouncing like a yo-yo on the umbilical cord as Lisa went down the steps in dutiful pursuit of a custodian.
Jane delivered her baby shortly before Halloween. Back then, the semester finished up in mid-January. It was about the end of semester time and Jane asked if she could come after school and talk to me. I said, “Sure” – thinking she was concerned about her grade or the semester test because of her time off with the baby. After school I was sitting at my desk when she entered and came around and sat on my desk facing me – her legs touching my legs. She gazed into my eyes with a seductive, playful smile on her lips and said, “I want you to be the father of my next child.” (At the time, she was 17 and I was 23.) I immediately broke out into a sweat. I know there’s a God because just then Wilma Menning, the school secretary, announced over the intercom, “Mr. Olson, you have a phone call in the office.” Immediately I got up and went downstairs to the office and hid out for the longest time.
There was an intervention with Jane, involving administration and counselors. She was removed from my class and sent over to my colleague Jim Montgomery’s room for her second semester American History course. Eventually, the passage of time and my marriage to Julie killed any sex appeal I might have had for students. I evolved into a father and then a grandfatherly figure for some of the kids as my career continued.
I enjoyed every one of my thirty-six years in the classroom and loved working with the students at Mitchell High School. There are some experiences that I wished I could have avoided and a few things I might have handled better but then I wouldn’t have these stories to tell all of these years later. Yes indeed, it was a different time.