School – Page 2 – I Don't Get It

The Touch, The Feel Of Cotton

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Most of the yearbooks I collect have ads in the back. Rarely are they interesting beyond the typeset or logos of the times, but this 1955 Lion’s Lair yearbook shows student at the places of business.

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These students tried out the wheelbarrow at Allandale Hardware & Variety.

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This Piggly Wiggly image gives insight to mid-century grocery stores before big chains like Wal-Mart and Target served our grocery needs.

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Butter Krust was the best bread around; we used to cover our textbooks with Butter Krust advertising sheets.

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Isn’t this last one fun? I like how they spell Bubba as “Buba.”

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The Mass That Matters

Billy Joel sang that “Catholic girls start much too late,” but what did he know? Jeanne didn’t start bleaching her hair too late. I think these ladies were right on time. Studying Shakespeare, enjoying vending machine coffee and Clark bars–these are the stuff of life.

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Young women were getting their learning on, sans the distraction of boys.

St. Mary's Academy, Amarillo, TX 1959 — St. Mary’s Academy, Amarillo, TX 1959

A nun supervised a student who was evidently keen on growing out her sideburns.

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A morning laugh with gal-pals in sensible warm coats started the day on the right foot.

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And what could be better than spending time in the sweetest home room in Saint Mary’s?

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Tantalizing Typing Teacher

We’ve Got Spirit, Yes, We Do

Y’all know I love old pep rally pics. The joy on the students’ faces, the smiles, the excitement. Not as jaded as these days.

The whole first row is clapping. No one is too cool for school. I just like to zoom in on these people and wonder what they were thinking. Were they whooping, hollering, or doing an Indian war cry? I love the shirt print, the jackets, the glasses, the cowboy hat, the hair.

Your guess is good as mine on this last one. Methinks it might be a Senior Skit, with some gender reversal all in good fun.

Three More Days

School starts Monday around these parts. The schedules have been mailed, the teachers assigned. And when the bank teller this morning asked my son if he was excited about school, he glared, then dropped his head, a wavy lock of hair falling forward in defeat. It was enough to make him forget the crisp Grant in his hand. Excited? No, ma’am.

But what if he gets the top locker? That’s something to get excited about, right?