We’re Free

We’re Free

The year was 1961.  I was in 5th grade at P.S. 81 in the Bronx. Those were the days where students were tracked based on academic achievement. So the -1 classes were the top students, down to the – 4 classes that were the lower academic classes. As I was advancing through elementary school I bounced around in the academic numbering. I don’t know where I was placed in Kindergarten or 1st grade, but based on the report cards from elementary school that I still have, I was in class 2-2 in second grade, where I must have exceeded expectations, for I was in class 3-1 in third grade. I’m not sure what happened in 3rd grade, but whatever it was, it was decided I was not one of the academically enriched student candidates; my placement in 4th grade was 4-3. I had issues, I guess, especially since at one point for disciplinary reasons they put me back in a third-grade class for three days, during that school year. You can read more about that here: http://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=1334 

Despite my discipline and academic regression, I was promoted to class 5-2 the next year and subsequently to class 6-2 the following year, before I left my elementary school to journey on to Junior High School.

But it was in 1961, in fifth grade, that my most memorable year of school occurred. And it was all because of my teacher, Miss Hurrell. 

Our class sizes were not small in those days. My 5th-grade class had 31 students in it  (16 boys, 15 girls), which would be dwarfed a year later in sixth grade where my class had 37 students (15 boys, 22 girls).

The class was made up of a heterogeneous group of characters some motivated, some not, some active, some shy, some loud, some antsy. You get the idea. You’ll notice in the class picture I’m the shortest one in the class (second row, far right). Looking over the class, I can still name most of the kids in that class. Miss Hurrell may have been one of the tallest teachers that I ever had. She always had a smile on her face and was very soft-spoken. I don’t remember her ever yelling at us.

We were graded on our report cards in areas such as Social behavior, Work and Study Habits, Language Arts (Reading, Oral and Written Expression), Social Studies, Mathematics, Science, and Other Areas (Health Education, Music, Art, Crafts…) The grades in each area were Excellent, Good, Fair, or Unsatisfactory. There were three marking periods. As I look through my old report cards from P.S. 81, a pattern to my grades is very clear.  I would start the year mostly in the Fair to Good Range, though there were a number of Unsatisfactory marks. By the second semester, there was some improvement and more by the last semester. I rarely got excellent in anything. Fifth grade was the outlier. Miss Hurrell never gave me any Unsatisfactory or Fair grades. I was Good from the start and even ended the year with two Excellent grades in Language Arts. I have to assume that she graded similarly with all of the other students because there were no complaints. That class loved her and would do anything for her. For once we had someone who appreciated us for all the quirks we exhibited and we were encouraged to grow.

All this love and praise came to head when Miss Hurrell had to leave one afternoon and they couldn’t find a substitute teacher for her. It was the practice at the time that if your teacher was out for a partial day, you would either have a substitute teacher or your class would be split up between other classes in the school. On this particular afternoon, it was decided not to split up our class. The only alternative left was to leave our class free and unattended for the afternoon. Today, that would be an unthinkable alternative. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it was an unthinkable alternative at that time too.

Despite its potential outcomes, Miss Hurrell convinced the powers that be to let our class remain intact, by ourselves for the afternoon. She provided work for us to do and had other teachers in the building stop in periodically to see how we were doing. All I remember from that afternoon was that you could hear a pin drop in the classroom. We were focused and diligent in the tasks that she left for us. I do remember teachers popping into the room periodically and by the look on their faces, they were amazed at how well we did on our own. They never stayed very long.

Miss Hurrell’s belief and trust in us was well-founded for that one day. We were given our freedom and we did not abuse it. Our class got many compliments and the feeling that I retained from the whole experience has lasted a long time.

It should be noted that Miss Hurrell never attempted to duplicate that experience again. Probably a good choice on her part.