Realizing\nthat I have written a few things about my ability to question authority, I\nbegan to think many readers might want to know why I am, and why I have been somewhat\nof a maverick. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The\nfirst memory I have that may lead one to think I was born a radical was in\ngrade school. I can remember where I sat\nin Sister Mark\u2019s class when she showed us something in which Chinese children\nwere saluting an image of Mao; arms out in unison and directed toward a big red\nflag with Chairman Mao larger than life in front of it. I doubt it was a video or a movie. It must have been an overhead projector. Anyway, she made a comment that sounded like\n\u201chow would you feel having to wear a grey uniform in school and proclaim yourself\nto a dictator?\u201d She was trying to make\ncommunism scary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\nwas embarrassed to speak out and bring up the similarity of standing in a\nparochial school where the girls had to wear jumpers, we said the Pledge of\nAllegiance before class with our hands over our hearts, and later in class proclaimed\nourselves to Jesus. I was confused. It became worse in high school when the girls\nstill wore jumpers with white blouses, but now, the boys had to wear dress\nslacks and shirts that buttoned down the middle. We still said \u201cThe Pledge.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
High\nschool was a great place to challenge authority. The first Friday of every month was called\n\u201cdress-up day\u201d. Instead of the jumper\nand blouse staple of daily HS living, the girls were allowed to wear any dress,\noutfit, or skirt\/blouse ensemble of their choice, as long as the hem was even\nwith the knee, and the bodice was not revealing, or even close. The guys had to wear a suit, or a sports coat\nwith the dress pants, and a tie. You\nreceived demerits for being \u201cout of uniform\u201d; not just on dress-up day, but\nevery day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One\nparticular dress up day, I wore a Nehru jacket as a sports jacket, my corduroy\npants with the cords running horizontal rather than the usual vertical, and a\npiece of rope as a belt. My tie must\nhave been okay because I don\u2019t remember getting any flack for that. I got 5 demerits for not having a belt. Actually, I got the idea from Jethro on the Beverly Hillbillies<\/a><\/em>. I should have received more demerits since I\nhad asked, \u201cjust what IS a belt?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nlate Jim Schulte and I would walk around the perimeter of the school during\nlunch hour. Since it was forbidden to\nleave the curb, we would take turns tapping one foot on the road to see if\nschool authorities would run out with the demerit slips. A few times we did walk off the curb and run\nto a small neighborhood grocery store up the street. There were two of these stores in the\narea. Spaens was the most popular. Those of us who were looked upon as\ntrouble-makers hung out at Spaens before school to smoke cigarettes, buy gum\nand candy, and the usual pen because you didn\u2019t have one and everybody was\nweary of lending one to you. The\nneighborhood groceries were no bigger than a living room, and they were part of\nthe front of the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We\navoided Spaens. The authorities would\nthink obviously that we might scamper off to it \u2013 only \u00bd block away to the\nwest. No, we often went to the one east\nof the school. It was the backside of\nthe school and the escape and return path were protected by overgrown evergreen\ntrees. However, we did get caught\nonce. That cost more than demerits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After\na 3-day suspension, we had to be admitted back to school by our parents. My mother came with me one morning to\nreenroll me in classes. I love my\nmom. Like me, she couldn\u2019t see why you\nwould suspend a kid from school for the crime of self-suspension by the kid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMrs.\nWolf,\u201d the priest would say, \u201cwe have reviewed Marty\u2019s file and discovered an\nabsent note that looks different from the rest.\u201d Oh, shit, I thought. I knew what was coming. Mom asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with this?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs\nthat your handwriting, Mrs. Wolf?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes,\u201d\nshe replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell\nthen, whose handwriting is this?\u201d he said, holding a stack of excuses. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom\ndidn\u2019t hesitate: \u201cThat\u2019s Carol\u2019s handwriting,\u201d she said matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\nrode home with Mom. Three more days of\nsuspension. She didn\u2019t think it was\nfunny. Neither did I. Nothing was done to Carol. She was a grade ahead of me and did no wrong,\nat least, as far as school authorities and Mom was concerned. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nfirst time I was called to Room 207 (no one wanted to be paged to Room 207),\nMr. Galatich asked if I was Kathleen\u2019s brother. \nHe never mentioned Carol. I was\ndoomed from the beginning, having to be compared to Kathleen rather than Carol. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I\nmay be the first and only student at Kuemper Catholic High School in Carroll,\nIowa, to flunk shop. Industrial Arts\nclass had a teacher whose nickname was Gomer, but not to his face. Gomer would take attendance and then have us\ndisperse to other areas of the huge classroom. \nI remember it looking like an oversized garage. There was a door in the back. I used it a lot. I was counted as being in attendance, why\nnot?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Electricity\nand I are not good friends. I have been\nwary of it for a long time. So, when it\ncame time to be graded on our welding projects, Gomer showed my piece to the\nclass and explained how beautiful it was. \n\u201cRyan, show the class how you did this?\u201d \nI didn\u2019t even know how to plug the welder into the socket. I made a fool of myself, and that was Gomer\u2019s\ngoal. I had paid Ray Julich $10 to do my\nproject. He was the best damned welder\nI\u2019ve ever seen. My bad. I should have paid someone $5 to do a mediocre\njob. See, I did learn in high school.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Out-of-class\nactivity included being an altar boy. \nThis paragraph comes right from our\nwebsite<\/a> where this blog is posted:<\/p>\n\n\n\n He first questioned authority when an old-fashioned priest insisted that he cut his hair or he couldn\u2019t be an altar boy. Marty realized he had a choice and opted for the latter. A cadre of altar boys that numbered close to 40 soon diminished to less than 20. Not only did he learn that he could question Catholic dogma (altar boys must have short hair), he discovered that he had the ability to lead. Fortunately, Marty was not excommunicated and graduated from Kuemper Catholic High School in Carroll with a thirst for social justice.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Because I worked after school and on weekends, it was only\nnatural that I might be tired at times. \nPutting my head on my arms and trying to sleep was an occasional\ndistraction to teachers. One afternoon,\nI popped my head up during the class, Contemporary Problems, to ask a\nquestion. Mr. Galatich, yeah, that guy,\nmade a big deal out of me rising from the dead \u2013 or something like that. But he was glad I had a question that\npertained to the class. \u201cWhat does\n\u2018Contemporary Problems\u2019 mean?\u201d The class\nlaughed, but Galatich looked around and said, \u201cgood question. Who can answer that?\u201d He asked several know-it-alls who failed to\nanswer properly. Finally, Ann Malloy\ngave a description of the class that pleased Galatich. He told me I could put my head back on the\ndesk. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I did learn a lot from high school, but it wasn\u2019t the one I\nwanted to attend. My desire was to go to\npublic school. I may be better off having\ngone to high school where I did. \nCatholic school taught me to push the envelope, to challenge that which\nmay not seem right, and to challenge myself. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n Since leaving high school, I no longer stand or recite the\nPledge of Allegiance to the American Flag. \nAnd I rarely leave anything early or skip out. But I still question authority. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Realizing that I have written a few things about my ability to question authority, I began to think many readers might want to know why I am, and why I have been somewhat of a maverick. The first memory I … Continue reading