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Return to Plano Memories Index PagePlano MemoriesBy Brenda Kellow
Early School Routine at PHSIt was routine every morning at Plano High School. At 8:27 a.m., Celia Daniel and I would wait on the east stairwell and listen quietly as one of the local ministers started the day with a prayer broadcast over the public address system, and wait for the 8:30 bell to ring. By cracking the door just a little we could hear when the principal, Mr. Williams, affectionately called ‘Baldy’ behind his back, brought the assembly to order in the huge study hall on the third floor. All four grades, 9 through 12, would be sitting in their seats waiting for him to finish so they could go to their classes. After he had begun his announcements Celia and I would slip through the door into the hall and enter the study hall and go to our double seats which were just a couple of rows from the front where Mr. Williams was standing. Everything stopped and stared when we entered. It was perfectly quiet except for a couple of snickers from some of the braver students who were aware of our shenanigans. We smiled confidently as we entered the study hall. We were confident because we always wore the latest fashions, and we knew we were impeccable in our appearance. After we were seated, Mr. Williams would announce that now that Celia and Brenda were here we could continue! Why did two good students choose to be tardy every morning? Our reason was twofold. One: we knew all the boys in the study hall would look at us; and two: it was a fun thing to do. There wasn’t a lot going on in those early days in Plano. We had to make our own fun. And make it we did. It was good clean fun and didn’t hurt anyone. We never got a bad grade in deportment. We were truly good girls looking for a fun opportunity. And this was ours! The idea of walking into the study hall immaculately attired was not truly original. We got the idea from the senior English teacher, Mrs. Skaggs, who always was the last teacher to enter. She never wore the same dress twice in a season. All the girls waited to see what she was wearing. Thus, she was indirectly responsible for our tardiness. The other English teacher, Mrs. Hardison, always looked well groomed, and she was pretty. But, she never quite had the regal entry of Mrs. Skaggs. The most striking teacher was by far the young, single librarian with the beautiful blond hair. She wasn’t there long because she became pregnant. Believe me when I tell you that a pregnant teacher was not allowed to teach once she began to show even a tiny bit, married or not. I remember she wore Mrs. Frost’s dresses to prolong her employment. Mrs. Frost was the typing teacher who was about the same height, but stocky. Her dresses nicely hid the librarian’s condition, from whom I can’t imagine. The kids knew. Did the principal and superintendent know? I wonder. Did she marry after she came to us as a single person? I don’t know. If she did it was a secret. Another lady to have that “secret” was Mrs. Massey, the coach’s wife. Her smile was always contagious, but after she became pregnant her smile was even more infectious. She was a tiny woman. I remember she came to school once dressed in a skirt and maternity top. Like the wind, she disappeared to the confines of her home after she began to wear those maternity tops. Many of the people in authority then are probably dead now, but I wonder what they think of the movie stars taking pictures of their prominent tummies, some with navel rings, and visible stretch marks on their developing bellies. Or mini skirts? Or see-through clothes? Or the attire worn or ‘almost’ worn by Cher? The shenanigans of 2004 may be routine today, but it was certainly not something that would ever have been tolerated in the 1950s or 1960s. Those years were on the cuff of the hippie years when communal living shocked the citizens of Plano. The appearance of marijuana replaced the accepted drugs of choice in the 50s—aspirin, Midol and rum and coke. Babies were commonly born after marriage, even if some first born came considerably sooner than the standard nine months. Routines change with time, and so do we.
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