The summer began in its usual plodding manner. That was the reason I went back to Kent for the second half of the summer. I enjoyed staying in one of the second floor rooms in the DU house. Only a handful of brothers had come back for any sessions. I was fortunate two of them were Gindy and Laird, since I had a chance to know them better than I had during the past year. A third returning brother was Tony Vinceguerra, with whom my relationship was paradoxical. We had been in the same pledge class and never got along; I was constantly his put-down kid. He was only a year older, but he had been in the Marines before coming to Kent. It showed.
I spent a lot of time with Lucy Fell, my “big sister,” who had been pinned to Dick Owen, my “big brother” during my pledge-period. We drank many a Seven-Seven (Seagram Seven and Seven-Up) during hot summer evenings. We did not really “date” but we spent a lot of time just talking. I had decided that she was the kind of woman I would like to date – maybe even marry someday: intelligent, great conversationalist, good looking and had progressive attitudes I found to be compatible. I did meet Joan Born that summer; we “sort-of dated.” I don’t remember going out much in the evening, but we spent hours in the Captain Brady coffee shop each afternoon. I had plenty of free time – taking only three classes, one in education and another in adolescent psychology. I also learned to swim that summer, an athletic accomplishment I never thought I would obtain, although, I admit, learning to float without drowning was better than my attempts at getting across the pool, which I did, finally.
There wasn’t too much to do around the House, except play cards during the afternoons on the front porch, which received an occasional breeze. Back then, very little was air conditioned. Ceiling fans made places like the Capt Brady somewhat bearable. There were occasional movies in Akron; the local theater had little to offer with a minimal number of students in town.
I did not look forward to returning to Niles at the end of the summer session, but there would be only two weeks for me to endure it.
The only interesting event I had in Niles was when I went to observe classes at Niles McKinley for a day. This was to be the last year in which high school classes would be held there. A new building was to open next September and my old one would become another junior high school. I found Mr. Moritz’s first period biology class to be the usual disaster zone. The students were to observe an onion cell and green algae cells under a “bioscope” – not a real microscope but an early kind of movie film viewed individually in a box. I saw a situation I hoped not to experience in my own teaching future: a class in which no one paid any attention to a teacher who threatened but with no follow-up. Mr. Lamb’s physics class, in which his students were actually learning how to measure small items with micrometers and vernier calipers, was quiet and productive. I tried to determine whether the difference between the classes was because of the teachers, or the conditions associated with a required, freshman class versus an elective, senior one. It was more fun to observe Miss Campana’ s history class and remember how to translate Latin with “Birdie” Evans.
The most disturbing observations came during lunch at the downtown diner where I ate with four teachers I did not know well. The conversation, which avoided any references to classes or students, was acceptable enough. However, I was not thrilled with the observation that three of them consumed soup and hotdogs, while the physical education instructor-assistant coach, attired in a sharp sports jacket, greatly enjoyed his steak dinner. I wondered if, perhaps, I should become a coach instead of a chemistry teacher and how do jock straps compare with test tubes. But then I remembered that summer swimming class, the only HPE class I’d ever really conquered, and knew I had to stay with test tubes.