High School Memories
Everett Vogel and Neva “Vaustian” Vogel, class of 1930, shared the following
information: Miss Shipp was an unmarried
teacher who wore about ten petticoats. She was
very prim and proper. Everett and Neva dated
while attending high school, and Miss Shipp would not allow them to go up or down the same
staircase to classes!
Roscoe
“Jiggers” Pettengill, who resides in his home on the banks of his beloved
Rock River here in
Rock Rapids, disclosed the following memories of his high school days while growing up in
Rock Rapids:
I attended Rock Rapids High School from 1933 to
1937. Students were indoctrinated into high
school life by two years of junior-high classes which occupied the first floor of the
building. We learned the system of moving from
class to class in separate rooms and attending assembly (or study hall) first thing in the
morning. For some it was the start of a career
of mischief. The junior-high principal, I
don’t remember her name, thoroughly shocked bystanders when she invaded the boys
toilet to drag out several culprits who were shooting off firecrackers in the toilet
bowls. The high school classrooms occupied the
second floor. This was the domain of the high
school principal, Mr. Kruwell. I do not
believe that any student under his administration ever forgot his name!
He must have loved
rising early in the morning. He was at
“morning school” every day. Morning
school convened at 7:00 a.m. and only students being disciplined attended. I do not know how many students attended morning
school, but I do know lots of us had more than one experience there. Stories about morning school are a large part of
our high school memories. Being tardy meant
attending morning school for sure. One girl
who rode to school with her older brother said she was there most of the time because of
her brother’s mischief. Each of us had
assigned desks so Mr. Kruwell could easily check which student was not in his seat on
time.
One winter day, the
bell was about to ring and my brother, Leon, got the zipper of his overshoe stuck and
could not get his foot loose. He rushed into
assembly with one overshoe off and the other flapping as he came down the aisle. The students laughed, and needless to say, he was
assigned to morning school.
Once, my morning
school sentence was well worth the fun I had before I got caught. I had an old brass doorbell, the kind with a
clapper that struck against the outside. I
mounted it on a block of wood and sneaked it into my desk.
When the study hall was really quiet and Mr. Kruwell was on the other side of the
room, I would reach inside my desk and pull out the clapper and then let it snap back. The ding of the bell filled the room. It was great! I
limited myself to one ding and no more than once a week.
Because of my caution, I was never caught in the act, but circumstantial evidence
was my downfall. One afternoon just before
school was over, I hurried to my desk to pull
out some books to take home. With the books
came the bell, and it fell to the floor with a
loud ding. Mr. Kruwell was at my side in an
instant. He said, “I’ve been looking
for the bell for months! I’ll expect you
at morning school for one week.” We
thought of him as something of a tyrant during those years, but with maturity, we remember
him with respect and affection.
As it was the custom,
the junior class was responsible for entertaining the seniors at the annual prom. I was the class treasurer and had to solicit $2.75
from each junior for this event. It took many
appeals before each class member finally paid. Cash
was not plentiful in those days. I was also in
charge of the decorations which were constructed in the manual training room. The theme was Dutch.
Our main attraction was a windmill in a bed of tulips. We were especially proud to watch the lights on the
wheel as it slowly turned throughout the evening. Mrs.
Morrison was the class advisor. Louis Kohl,
the manual training teacher, was our technical advisor.
Leon and I walked or
rode our bikes back and forth to school and home during the noon hour. Sometimes Dad would give us a ride back to school
after noon . Mother had to have dinner ready when Leon, myself,
and my three sisters came charging in.
When I was sixteen, I
was allowed to drive the car occasionally. When
Dad let me take the car to drive some of the football players to out-of-town games, the
coach, Hooley Means, paid me two silver dollars. My
dad let me keep the money while he paid for the gas, which incidentally, was getting
expensive. In the early 30’s gas was five
gallons for a dollar.
Written by Roscoe Pettengill
Transcribed by Roseanna Zehner
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