12. Academics

My senior year came and I was painfully aware that the best student was chosen valedictorian who had to stand up at the commencement ceremony and make a speech. I was afraid of such a thing. I knew I was in the running and slipped my grades enough so that I knew I wasn't considered. Walter Baldwin, who I had known since Holy Cross, was chosen and I let a student who was inferior to me get the glory. It was okay with me.

Every year the Advisor of the Senior class was Mrs. Ripley. She knew how to get the yearbook done, the rings ordered, and all the other things that happen in the course of a class graduating. She was a good Adviser to have, to get advice from. Mrs. Ripley was a very effective History and Civics teacher. She was the most respected teacher. I liked the unusually large amount of homework that she expected and got. Halfway through the first semester she shocked us by telling us that the U.S. History book would be done by the end of the semester. It was a thick book and I could not realistically see how we could do it. I said to myself, okay, I'm going to do her one better. I worked on it nights, weekends, study hours, all my spare time. No dances, no movies, no basketball, no Ships Service, nothing but the history book. I answered all the questions and drew all the maps in the book. Then in early December I came to class and sat with my arms crossed looking out the window casually. Mrs. Ripley stood up and stared at me with her sternest look. "Eddie! We have work to do!" "Mrs., Ripley I'm done with the homework." "Then do the next chapter. You can't sit there and do nothing!" As nonchalantly as I could I picked my sheaf of home work papers and handed it to her. "Mrs. Ripley, I'm done with the whole book." I was too cocky. I sat down and never got the well done, good work, words I expected. I was the only one in the room who impressed myself. I learned a lesson.  

English was not a difficult subject in high school. I give all the credit to the Sisters of St. Ann at Holy Cross Mission. I'm grateful that the basics of the English language were taught so well. Even with such fine teachers noticed the problems that other students had, especially if English was the second language they were learning. A common occurrence was the use of double negatives in the same sentence. I once heard a boy tell ask his friend. "How come you always never come to see me once in a while?" For many high school students who spoke a broken English, their English was a final hesitation before they entered the white man's world. Our teacher was Mrs. June Abel who was as sweet as her husband was rigid. She appreciated my efforts with an Eskimo smile of approval. She once gave us an assignment to write a poem during our lunch hour. I skipped lunch and here is what I wrote: 

[see  PRAYER FROM THE ARCTIC]