Mrs. Winklepleck
Hobart Junior High was a lot like every other school in the seventies. Red brick, two-storied, and filled with hopelessly geeky teenagers, like myself. Students wore bell-bottom jeans and rock band T-shirts. Posters of teen idols hung inside locker doors next to class schedules.
Everyone who was cool smoked cigarettes. I remember walking down to the corner drugstore where I would eagerly spend my lunch money on menthol Kools instead of food. I'd smoke three or four and then get horribly nauseous in gym class afterward. Gym class was called gym, not P.E. Smoking would ruin athletic opportunities for me down the road in high school. Just a few years/cartons later I was caught with a cigarette in my hand by a Nazi hall-stalker who tracked me out an exit side door. No advanced P.E. for this rebel!!! But, I had my smokes! How did I graduate in the top twenty percent of my class? Haha! At least I quit smoking in my twenties.
Home Economics, Home Ec for short, was a junior high class I will never forget. Looking back, I think it was the first course in which I started to evolve into a smart-ass class clown. I maintained this troubling persona until graduation (and beyond). No teacher thereafter could escape my immature remarks and or heated insults muttered under my breath. There was one particular Home Ec teacher, who, because she had such a ridiculous name, became the butt of constant pestering. Her name, although hard to believe, was.......Mrs. Winklepleck. Seriously. She was a slim woman with an upswept hairdo of dark brown curls. Her voice was high-pitched like a child. Let me see if I can put my wandering fingers to work on Google in an attempt to capture the essence of this unfortunate wench.
She really was a beautiful woman with a gentle heart and a sweet disposition. That didn't matter one iota to me and my classmates. Every day we would raise our hands in unison and shout, "Mrs. Winklepleck! Mrs. Winklepleck! MRS.WINKLEPLECK!!!!! We bugged the shit out of her!!! She usually took it well. One day, however, she reached her maximum tolerance level with my incessant badgering and scoldingly retorted in her little-girl voice, "Now Susan, are you an ONLY CHILD?" Hahahahaha! She also took one look at my botched sewing project and sadly told me that the material of the shirt was so pretty and it was quite a shame that I had accidentally sewn the neckline eighteen inches too deep. My bad, my VERY bad....
In a future blog I will share some wonderful memories from Mrs. Shaw's Spanish class. By the way, Mrs. Winklepleck, I still desperately need your help! ; )
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| Remember these? Ugly as hell until you made them your own.... |
Everyone who was cool smoked cigarettes. I remember walking down to the corner drugstore where I would eagerly spend my lunch money on menthol Kools instead of food. I'd smoke three or four and then get horribly nauseous in gym class afterward. Gym class was called gym, not P.E. Smoking would ruin athletic opportunities for me down the road in high school. Just a few years/cartons later I was caught with a cigarette in my hand by a Nazi hall-stalker who tracked me out an exit side door. No advanced P.E. for this rebel!!! But, I had my smokes! How did I graduate in the top twenty percent of my class? Haha! At least I quit smoking in my twenties.
Home Economics, Home Ec for short, was a junior high class I will never forget. Looking back, I think it was the first course in which I started to evolve into a smart-ass class clown. I maintained this troubling persona until graduation (and beyond). No teacher thereafter could escape my immature remarks and or heated insults muttered under my breath. There was one particular Home Ec teacher, who, because she had such a ridiculous name, became the butt of constant pestering. Her name, although hard to believe, was.......Mrs. Winklepleck. Seriously. She was a slim woman with an upswept hairdo of dark brown curls. Her voice was high-pitched like a child. Let me see if I can put my wandering fingers to work on Google in an attempt to capture the essence of this unfortunate wench.
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| This is pretty damn close. Mrs. Winklepleck's curls were even higher! |
In a future blog I will share some wonderful memories from Mrs. Shaw's Spanish class. By the way, Mrs. Winklepleck, I still desperately need your help! ; )
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