Extra Debit

There is a lot of truth to Paul Simon’s assessment of education as expressed in his 1973 hit song, “Kadachrome”: “When I think back on all the (junk) I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all!” Having said that, I will admit that I have actually used the Pythagorean Theorem to ascertain the hypotenuse of a right triangle on more than one occasion. I would happily wager that I am the only member of my senior class to have used it outside of the classroom in the last forty years. (That, along with the ability to bisect angles, comes in wonderfully handy when cutting the rafters for an octagon!)

There were two classes in school that really should have been required of everyone: Typing and Bookkeeping. You either know how to type or you wish you did and if you don’t know how to keep books, you are probably the poorer for it, no pun intended. In the spring of 1974 I was taking both of them and they were taught by the same young woman. Her name was Miss Ginger Gammage. She was tall with blonde hair and brown eyes and was probably no older than her mid twenties. Her good looks aside, she was a no-nonsense teacher who always kept good control of the classes and made sure we were learning the courses.

The school year was winding down and with it were the years from Kindergarten on. Two weeks until graduation and I could hardly wait to move on. Miss Gammage was giving the instructions for our final exam in Bookkeeping which consisted of paying a bunch of bills, reconciling our checking accounts and making the right entries in our ledgers with the ultimate goal that the debits and credits would all balance out with the correct totals. (Now this was all done by hand, back in the day. Texas Instruments had come out with a calculator about the size of a king sized pack of cigarettes but it cost several hundred dollars and even if we had of owned one, we would not have been allowed to use it.)

All went well until, in the course of her instructions, she told us that at the end of class, any incomplete answers would be counted against us. A general murmur arose from the class but I discerned that a more specific voice was needed to plead our cause and before I knew it, I heard these words coming from my mouth:

“That doesn’t make any sense! Why would you count off for an answer that isn’t there? You would have just as much reason to mark it correct, instead. The only conclusion that you could draw from an incomplete answer is that no one knows whether the student could answer it or not. We just know that he didn’t have time to get to it!” (If such a thing were likely to happen to a student, I had a pretty good idea whom that student might be!)

“Well”, she snapped, “That’s the way it’s going to be!”

The lack of good judgment that is so characteristic of eighteen year olds spurred me on:

“Let’s think about it! Your job is to teach the material. Our job is to learn it. The purpose of the test is to tell how we both did. If no one passes, you didn’t teach it very well! If only I fail it, I didn’t learn very well! But once you throw the incomplete tests into the discussion, we really don’t know what conclusion to draw. The best student in class may not necessarily be the fastest one. And if we make a mistake from rushing, our totals will be wrong regardless of how well we understand how to do it! That’s just not fair!”

I was suddenly aware that if I had begun as one voice among many, I was now strangely on my own! Miss Gammage’s face was a bright red and her eyes were flashing with anger!

“Hal Leary! If you say one more word, you’re going straight to the office!”

I was also angry at this point because I felt that I was winning the argument and did not appreciate being dismissed out of hand.

“I might as well! I’m certainly not learning anything in here!”

In an instant, her book slammed to the desk top and we were on our way! The hall to the principal’s office circumvented a round auditorium and I still remember the sharp tapping of her heels echoing off of the hard walls and floor as we made our way around the rotunda without a word between us.

I don’t really recall the details of what happened next. I know that Dad got a call from the principal that evening. He said something to the effect that he had never had a moment’s trouble from the Leary boys and hoped that there would be no more in the future. Dad assured him that there wouldn’t be and told Mr. Daniel that he was welcomed to punish me in any way that he saw fit. The truth was, all three of us were ready for high school to be done with! I never heard anymore about it from either of them.

The only thing that I remember about the final exam was that I passed it. And, against all odds and the predictions of more than one of my teachers, I went on to lead a somewhat productive life and have avoided prison, so far!

I have never seen Ginger Gammage since graduation and I would love to know what became of her. She was a fine teacher and I wish her all the best.

Hal F. Leary, Class of ‘74

2-13-15