There I Go, Telling Tales Out of School
My mail cubicle has been filled lately with letters that are warm and inspiring. Of course, this makes me suspicious, especially since the topics concern public education and what may loosely be described as the state of the American adolescent. Both are frequent targets of criticism.
Readers have amplified, more precisely, on recent columns concerning the retirement of a Mr. Chips-like teacher at Burbank High School, the production of “Damn Yankees” at Monroe High and debates in the field of Valley Girlology. Today’s theme might be “High School Unconfidential.”
Marilee D. Patterson of Burbank writes:
It is not my custom to write to newspapers concerning articles. . . . However, your recent column on Mr. Bill North of Burbank High School absolutely demanded a letter!
Our son had Mr. North for U.S. History. . . . Our son was not the “student type” and tried his best to drop out with so few credits that it was considered an impossibility for him to graduate at all--much less with his class. Mr. North was a teacher who helped us change all that. He inspired our son to learn and to learn on his own for the sake of learning. Our son went from any parent’s nightmare to a voracious reader and learner. And Mr. North was there when our son proudly received his diploma with his graduating class!
All the credit goes to our son who proved that the experts at the school were wrong. But our son would be the first to tell you that Mr. North was the teacher who was able to motivate him to want to learn and get an education. We are extremely proud of him and thankful there was at least one teacher who could inspire the thirst for knowledge . . . hopefully in every student’s life, there is a Mr. North.
Now that’s so nice it’s almost gooey. It definitely needed verification. When I called Marilee Patterson, she insisted it was all true and added a few details.
When Robert Patterson, now 24, was starting his junior year at Burbank High, he had such a robust truancy record and such a spotty academic record that he had earned only 15 credits toward the 206 needed to graduate.
“He had lots of teachers who had no use for him,” Marilee said. A counselor told him he would never graduate.
His parents got tough. Marilee says she’d walk Robert to school to make sure he attended class. Then Mr. North worked his wonders.
Robert set out to prove the counselor wrong. He carried a full course load and made up other credits via independent study. On graduation day 1990, Marilee said, Robert couldn’t help but thumb his nose at the counselor who’d given up on him.
Robert is now 24 and works as a veterinary assistant. He lives with his wife in Reseda, raising three children and making his parents proud.
It’s probably true that every student should have a Mr. North, but that’s setting an awfully high standard for the teaching profession. Fortunately, most students don’t set as low a standard as Robert once did.
Take the cast of Monroe High’s “Damn Yankees.” Not only did they stage a spirited production, complete with hot dogs and Cracker Jack, but they took the time to send this critic a thank-you card, with 23 personal notes.
It was also a “thanx” card. “Thanx so much for putting us in the paper,” wrote one student. “Thanx a billion and one,” wrote another. “Thanx for calling me sultry,” wrote the girl who played Lola. And, finally, “Thanx four supporting the communitee,” wrote one young man who perhaps should have a Mr. North in his life.
Not that I am a Puritan about spelling. One can’t be a defender of Valley Girl culture and not appreciate a little creative spelling. And speaking of Vals, I’m pleased to submit more testimony in the struggle against misguided East Coast journalists who curiously favor the phrase “Val Gal” to the official terms “Valley Girl” and “Val.”
It’s not the stereotype that offends. It’s getting the stereotype wrong.
Teresa McDonald, a 17-year-old Van Nuys High student, writes:
When I read the headline, I could not believe my eyes. “Val Gals?” I groaned. . . .
It just so happens I AM an icon of the Valley, one of the only icons we have, a Valley Girl. From head to toe, born and raised, a Valley Girl, fer sher, like totally. So now I must give you praise and commend you for your defense of my name that I hold so dear to my heart.
Aw, shucks. Thanx a billion and one.
Another letter suggests that the perception of Vals is not only subject to regional bias, but generational debate. Merry Shelburne, a 50-year-old La Crescenta resident, objected to 13-year-old Mindy Schulte’s assertion that “every woman outgrows her Valleyness, around age 25.”
Merry Shelburne writes:
Mindy, dear, a woman does NOT outgrow her Valleyness. . . . It’s an attitude thing. It’s a way of thinking, of looking at life, that never quite dissipates. I’m, like, probably older than your mother, dear, but I will always be a Valley Girl (I don’t like Val, and I certainly don’t approve of Val Gal). . . .
The exact definition of that viewpoint is elusive, but she has to be an L.A. native, an expert shopper, and she will automatically at least give the impression that she’s a bit of an airhead.
Mindy, fer shure you will be a Valley Girl forever. . . .
Indeed, not only do Vals defy correct spelling, they also defy definition. They have a certain je ne sais quoi, like totally.
Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number.
