When does the new year begin? For most people the answer is January 1. Not for me. For almost all of my life, the year begins in September, with the start of the academic year; it results from my time spent as a student and in my career in higher education.
Back in 1950, when I was fifteen, I looked forward to changes that would commence when the leaves turned to reds and golds. I was anxious to begin my sophomore year, the year of the “wise fool.” It was then that I transferred from Washington Junior High School to the 10th grade at Niles McKinley High School. It was supposed to have been a year of change, of improvement. There would be new kids to meet, those from the southwest side of Niles who had not gone to WJHS. And it worked, more or less.
This was also the time when my Journaling began. I had purchased a thin, brown, spiral-ring Engagements book. Each page had space for multiple days but little room for any extensive entries, which was actually a good limitation. The first entry I made was for Monday, January 1, 1951, halfway through my sophomore year. It read: “HAPPY NEW YEAR, family played Canasta ‘till 1 A.M., went to 12 Mass. About 5:00, Mom and I went to Camerino’s.”
Canasta was a family card-game I played back then, along with Hearts. My father and uncles were avid Pinochle players; I never learned how to play the game. Given that January 1 is a major Holy Day, back then called the Feast of the Circumcision, I had to attend Mass. An obligatory holiday dinner was mandated for going up-the-hill for the evening.
The entry for January 30 stated that for the first semester of my sophomore year I received 3 A’s and 1 B, but omits what courses they were for. My guess would be that the B was in plane geometry, since Miss Galster, who taught everything she had learned directly from Euclid and Archimedes, seldom, if ever, gave an A to anyone for any mathematical course.
During the first days of February, classes were cancelled because of a foot of snow. The cold I picked up led me to Dr. Williamson’s office for a penicillin shot, no doubt part of the reason I’m now allergic to this antibiotic.
Another entry that month indicated I was nominated for president of the sophomore class and that Bob Wick was elected. Bob was probably the most popular kid in high school; he was elected class president every year.
One of the items of interest was a trip to Kent State on May 5 to take the district test in Biology. A week later I learned I’d placed seventh in the northwestern Ohio district. The only real social event worth noting was decorating the gym for the Sophomore Class Party with the theme “Old Shanty Town.” Evidently I did attend and reported that I “had a lot of fun.”
Wednesday, June 6, 1951, was the last day of the year, once more I ended up with 4 A’s and 1 B. The notation for that final day included the statement: “Miss G was nice today.” The additional class was personal-use typing. It would seem, on rereading this Engagements book, that the year of the wise fool was less boring than I thought it was at that time. There may not have been events of any special nature, but I did survive it, being “alone” much of the time, but not feeling overly lonely, a true wise-fool.