Kept it after all these years...
End of sixth grade autograph page. "The Green Phantom": I have no idea what that was about.
One thing I should have learned in sixth grade was the use of ditto marks.
"Good luck with the girls in 7th grade." Yeah, right, Deb.
Note my pessimistic comment about being dismissed from class on time at 3 PM. It rarely happened for me.
A slighting comment about the teacher: "What is it?" "johnson, that's what!"
No deviation allowed.
Note graphical representation of clock faces - I must have missed sessions or something. Or maybe I was actually that stupid and didn't know how to tell time. I recall singing "Mary Ann," a goofy calypso song I disliked intensely. Finally, note acession through the ranks of leadership to Class President. I really, really didn't want to do this - I just signed on as Secretary-Treasurer.
And here we begin my mountain of "citizenship" problems. In the first quarter I only had one page full. That "USUSS" was my citizenship grade based on elements: U-Unsatisfactory, S=Satisfactory.
Why would I want to listen to Johnson when I could talk or horse around with Diane?
The second quarter, page one of two. I didn't like David Alvarado much, it seems. And the Christmas show was NOT meant to be laughed at!
Page 2/2. I dearly wish I could recall what the nasty remark was I made, or how I could climb on a wall. Touching my neighbor's eraser was an rationale for keeping somebody after school, and Mrs. Wilkerson has a ridiculously high and warbly voice, which is why I giggled (I was not alone). Only one satisfactory element in the 2nd quarter: USUUU. Clearly, there were rough times ahead.
Third quarter, page 1 of 3. Rock throwing was fun, but I had to fill half a bucket of them when caught. My report card was not good at all - which is why it mysteriously went "missing." The last entry, not quite seen, is "Taking others bike," which is sort of like 1968 style cattle rustling.
Page 2 of 3. I liked to block Viki because I was attracted to her, duh. I had to get Dad to sign off on this - getting him to do it was far less traumatic than getting Mom's signature. I was always a skilled mimic, which Mrs. Gundrum learned. What was I doing behind the bungalow on March 1st? No good, I'm sure. And I want to confirm that splashing drinking fountain water on my classmates' faces was not an activity confined to me; we all did it. But guess who always got nailed for it?
Page 3 of 3, and I had to get a parental signature once again. The top one is Dad's actual signature - the one at the bottom is an unconvincing imitation of Mom's. Johnson didn't fall for it.
Yes, I actually wrote on Miss Johnson's desk. I forget what, but it wasn't complimentary. Note the "100!!' It was becoming a source of pride to me to start racking up problems. Filling one-sided papers ("I will not draw when not allowed to at school..."), two-sided papers, 3, 4, 5, 6... whatever. I developed a method which I thought made the time go faster, but in retrospect I might as well have simply spent the rest of the evening in class without all the writing.
In hindsight, I don't know how "Math not correct" constitutes a citizenship problem - but, whatever. Clearly, my USUUU was an indication that things would not get any better and by this time I simply stopped caring.
Fourth quarter, page 1 of 3. Playground participation? I wanted to throw rocks. "Name calling John C." (Cuellar) - I called him a "brontosaurus"; he responded with a punch to the face. That learned me. Note Mom had to sign off.
Dexter's tire had too much air in it; I was really assisting him. I don't know why "wild movements during TV" was crossed off. Perhaps they weren't so wild. Maybe it was interpretative dance.
Page 2 of 3. Miss Johnson, fed up, appeals to my parents. Dad blows her off. Thank you, Dad. The "dishonest behavior report" had to do with my forging my mother's signature, I think. A notable day for me was 5/2/68, my personal Reign of Terror, when I was cited five times. The best was flushing a basketball in a urinal, here delicately called a "bathroom problem."
Note that pens were forbidden to me. And both Mom and Dad had to sign off.
Finally, I am proud to note that that pesky David Alvarado never did get to see my pen.
Page 3 of 3. The business about not accepting my "presidential responsibility" had to do with acne, puberty and having to do dry-throated singing of the National Anthem in front of the class. It's explained here: http://wesclark.com/am/captain_russian.html
Throwing sand, hitting Ricky, pounding Mike - I just didn't care anymore. My final citizenship grade: UUUUU. A grand slam! Good riddance Johnson, good riddance Monterey.
Reading! I loved it! It was an escape. Note grades and pages read. In sixth grade, knocking off 300+ page books was an accomplishment. Well, for boys, anyway. By the time I was twelve I had read all of the Hugh Lofting Doctor Dolittle books, no small feat.
More reading, more A's. ("AA" on the Stanford Reading Test.) Note "America's First Spaceman," a book about John Glenn, my hero.
Another quarter, another A. Even Miss Johnson, who thought little of me, concurred that I was good at it.
Well, I should get an "A" in a speech about myself...
I clearly wasn't impressed with whatever trip it was we took.
I may have gotten an "A" with writing my name and address, but, clearly, my handwriting was bizarre. I preferred to letter in comic book dialogue style.
An eleven year-old boy gets a "D" in an assignment about fabrics. Imagine that.
Math was always rocky for me, but I have come to realize that much of the time, it's a matter of communications and being taught poorly. Math is often taught by math majors - it should be taught by communciations types...
I have no idea who wrote that middle entry - it wasn't me. By the end of the school year I was academically uncaring.
Eh. Simon Bolivar, the "South American George Washington." Not to me, he wasn't. But in a weird class activity I was called upon to portray Bolivar receiving the cheers and adoration of the masses, and was carried around in the classroom on the shoulders of a couple of the boys. I felt deeply confused.
By the last quarter I didn't care about anything, let alone Mexico.
I recall being really annoyed with a "C" in art - it was my best subject. The hatch marks show drawing placed in the classroom on display.
I just noticed that my cursive capital "E" was really strange looking, like an uncoiled spring.
Note editorial comment about the volleyball serve test. They all went into the net.
Trip questions for a visit to the Los Angeles International Airport. Mrs. Dunnigan's kids wore orange cards. I wanted green.
Answers to the exciting trip questions.
A visit to Luther Burbank Junior High School (known outside of California as "middle schools"). It looked like freedom.
Louanne Phillips came up with these verses, "She sat in front of me at this time" - reflected glory.
You can't see it because it is very faint, but after "Roses are red, violets are blue, I give this to you" on the bottom in pencil is a drawing of a hand with an extended middle finger. Right back atcha, whomever you were!
Doug was right, yes, I was the funniest. Mr. Derrick was a snide young janitor working there while attending college.
I never did learn to pronounce "Avoirdupois." Do we even call weights this anymore?
Health record. Mine was updated in the Burbank schools from 1965, when we moved there from Los Angeles, until 1974 when I graduated from Burbank High.
Note entry from May 1968 describing my problems with a dry throat and "presidential responsibility" pressure - a neurotic condition requiring psychiatric counseling at UCLA. (That didn't happen.) Thank you, Miss Johnson.
5th grade report card (Sept. 1966 - Jun. 1967)
6th grade report card (Sept. 1967 - Jun. 1968)
...asking Dad to sign Composition Book.
The thing I made up to invite my parents to our sixth grade graduation (based on a Mexico '68 Olympics theme).