Pedagogy on a pedestal, part two

By Stephen Hefner

In "Pedagogy on a Pedestal Part One," I fondly recalled my early school days and the great group of teachers I was fortunate to have. In 1958 I was forced to leave the cocoon of elementary school and clumsily fly into the wind blown courtyard world of Tryon High School. Fortunately, there were many wonderful teachers there to catch me and to tether me on stable ground.

I have many flash back memories of Tryon High School, but a few images linger longer in my mind. In present times it seems appalling, but I can picture teachers and students taking a smoke break together in the high school courtyard between classes. The cigarette commune consisted mostly of male teachers and students. In those ancient days the macho male gender could smoke, dip snuff, and even chew tobacco without social or institutional consequences. A few females joined the courtyard cluster, but they were branded as being "bad" girls.

I remember the "new" gym with the gravel parking lot where students
– fortunate enough to have one (I wasn‘t one of them) – would park their jalopies. In the fall of my senior year, I boosted my ego by playing on the basketball team in the gym. We wore shorts that would seem ridiculously short today. The playground reserved for high school physical education classes was beside the gym. I can picture an old log or wooden house on the playground behind the gym. I don‘t remember its purpose.

I had many excellent teachers during my tenure at Tryon High School. To name all of them would take several columns. Thus, I will limit my recollections to those educators that stand out in my memory. Every student that attended Tryon High School in the 50s and 60s (and even earlier) will remember Ms. Myrtle Baldwin. I remember her as an elderly, tall and thin woman who wore her hair up with a huge ball in the back. I envision there being a pencil stuck in the ball of hair, but I my only be picturing a stereotypical teacher. I won‘t say that students hated Ms. Baldwin, but most of them dreaded her history or Latin classes. She was a stern teacher who expected the best from her students. Her dry sense of humor was not recognizable by most people. It was only when I got to college that I fully realized that she was probably one of the best teachers than I had in high school.

My Biology teacher in high school was Mr. Jack Kirstein, a tall, red-haired man who wore black horned rimmed glasses. He wrote in my annual, "My best to a student who is friendly and has an excellent brain" (so you see he was a very smart man!). Mr. Kirstein‘s Biology class highlight consisted of students dissecting a fully grown cat. If I recall correctly, my partner in doing this dastardly deed was Joan Hall. I remember taking one of our cat‘s kidneys and secretly placing it in another team‘s feline. They proudly pointed out to Mr. Kirstein that their cat had three kidneys!

Billie Metcalf was my basketball coach and physical education instructor. He was a handsome man who believed in staying in shape (if he could see me now!). I remember running wind sprints during basketball practice to the point that the entire team left their lunch on the steps leading downstairs to the locker rooms.

For senior English I was fortunate to have Elizabeth Correll as a teacher. Her room was next to the cafeteria overlooking the courtyard. In her class, I wrote my first footnoted term paper. That exercise prepared me for college more than all my English courses put together.

There were many other great educators at Tryon High School during my four years there. Teachers such as Mr. Bobby Joe Harris, Mrs. Isabel Hines, Coach Frank Maennle, Mr. Jeff Pyatte, Mrs. Margaret Rawlings, and Mrs. Margaret Swann helped me immensely in my quest for learning.

My final collage of Tryon High contains scenes of a trip taken by a small group of closely knitted seniors. Each year the senior class traveled to our nation‘s capital. Being a small group, our class rented one railroad car for the trip to Washington. It was probably the first time many of us had ventured north of the Mason-Dixon Line. I remember snapshots of the trip such as: Elizabeth Rhodes (Burrell) walking through the train pretending to be a veiled princess; Rion MacDonald and several other boys (maybe even me!) getting caught sneaking up to the girls floor at the hotel; a boy (maybe me!) putting toothpaste in Phillip Davidson‘s hand while he was asleep, and tickling his nose; and finally the group picture in front of the U.S. Capitol building (trick photography made me appear at both ends of the class); The trip was a great end to my four years at a great school with superb teachers.

Lost and found department:
In my last column, I noted that two long lost friends, David Hall and John Oakley, have been reunited through this column. To my great surprise and joy, I, too, have been reunited with my elementary and high school buddy, Charles Fishburne after 46 years. Charlie had been searching for my whereabouts on the internet to no avail when he came across the bulletin website. He read the column in which I mentioned him in "Tryonite Trivia." Charlie saw my e-mail address and the rest is history. Charlie has retired from the television broadcasting business and now has a film production company. He is married to his singing partner, Willye, and enjoys taking care of his ten-year old granddaughter, Jessica. Charlie and I are enjoying reminiscing about our days in school. Charlie also has been in contact with Jimmy Flack, our Tryonite buddy who now lives in San Francisco, California.

I hope to hear from other school friends and classmates. E-mail me at shefner@savcps.com.