A Unique High School Experience

Journal On! Grand Prompt to Ask Your Grand

Did you have a unique High School experience or situation? Were there clubs or teams that allowed you to explore passions? Did you share memorable adventures with friends? Was there a teacher whose inspiration and challenges still stick with you today? Were there incidences that shaped your future? 

Presently, I am involved in planning my 50th high school reunion. The Sayville Class of 1975 is rounding that milestone! My high school years were gentler than most. I had loving parents, a safe home, and a wonderful town to grow up in. For most of my four high school years, I was the good kid, followed rules, and had a nice core group of friends, mostly from the drama and music clique. I was an awkward student who was not very good at any one thing. Days were spent filling my brain with facts, figures, verb conjugations while trying to navigate the social structures as a shy, insecure teen. It was a somewhat typical high school experience.

There was, however, one thing that made my high school years unique. Mrs. Truglio, my mom, taught 10th grade Biology and Advance Biology from room 110. In 1968, her position as a female high school science teacher was a first for the traditional little town of Sayville. The classroom sat in the middle of a main hallway, so there was no escaping her wave and nods as I passed by between classes. 

Mom held teaching certifications in biology and physical education and a master’s degree in marine biology. She was a tough instructor, who strived to see her students succeed. The state demanded rigor and competence, but Mrs. Truglio would not settle with teaching for the test. She developed curriculum content that went beyond the standards and created lab protocols, diagrams, and worksheets. Her belief in science and passion to teach her students so that they may appreciate the wonders of science echoed in Room 110. At one time, she went toe-to-toe with parents and administration defending the evolution unit. She won.

Plants and various stages of experiments filled her widows and ledges. There was a 50 gallon saltwater fish tank that housed small indigenous marine life collected from local beach field trips. Shiners and killies swam, hermit crabs scurried, snails crawled on the glass walls, and razor clams and a scallop with a spooky blue eye sat in the sand behind seaweed during biology classes. Students, some of whom did not have Mrs. Truglio as their teacher, brought treasures from their work on the bay as clammers or fishermen. I remember the incredible prize of a pregnant male seahorse, swimming about and hiding in the red sponge. 

Having my mother in the same school had its downsides. I could not get away with anything. Even though skipping class, not handing in assignments, or sneaking to the 7-11 behind the school for a Slurpee sugar rush before 10:00 in the morning was not on my radar, I would not risk the probable aftermath of humiliation and reprimands. My sister, Mary, a year younger and a lot bolder than me, tried to test a boundary only to get caught and having her name announced for detention with the dean which was a milder punishment compared to the bellowing summons “Mary Margaret!” from Room 110. Mary ran to the biology room first to explain the mistake, which Mom did not readily buy. “Do not embarrass us again!” she warned. 

But there were perks. She drove me and my neighborhood friends to school in those early morning hours. I relied on her stash of snack crackers, an extra sweater, and a cup of tea in the back lab. When she was not teaching, her door remained open. It was my invite to find a quiet spot, read, or catch up on homework. Other stragglers strolled in to take a break from the hallway or lunchroom. Some quietly nipped off the dead heads from her plants, sat and ate a sandwich, or simply stared at the fish tank. Many imitated me and called her “Ma”. 

Mom knew how I struggled with math classes and how my poor spelling and writing skills affected the subjects I liked—English and Social Studies. I was a mediocre student and plowed through the best I could. Mom did not get directly involved in my classes, except biology.

Because I was her daughter, I did not have Mrs. Truglio as my biology teacher. I had the other guy who struggled with problems and poor life choices. Mom was upset that my notes were pointless ramblings. The teacher had us copy from the blackboard. The lab notebooks were abysmal. I was not the only one floundering in the class. She could not challenge her senior colleague without consequences. Instead, she quietly retaught the units and passed out diagrams and worksheets during her prep periods and after school. Anyone who wanted the extra help could get it so long as “you pay attention and use your brain.” Coddling, excuses, and goofing off were not accepted. When the state Regents exams loomed in June, the study groups expanded to our home at the dining room table one or two nights each week.  

Many of my friends did well on the Biology Regents that year. Some were happy enough to pass. I did better than expected, but did not develop a love for biology or any of the sciences I had to take in high school. Math continued to confound me and I carried a pocket spell dictionary with me through high school and well into college (I still have it!). I graduated somewhere in the middle of my high school class. Somehow, those science-y and even math concepts easily came back to me in the required college classes. Thankfully, Spell Check was invented during my college years. 

Mom made my high school experience unique. Not everyone had their mother as the fierce biology teacher, demanding attention and action, and providing extra review and encouragement. It would have been easier for her and me to simply review my notes and fill my head with facts to regurgitate. Mom had her motives. As a mother, the group sessions took direct attention off of  me and gave me the appreciation that my struggles were not unique, mitigating the sulky self-pity attitudes. As a teacher, it was her job to teach anyone who was willing to use their brain and learn how to learn.

Now that I am involved in planning the high school reunion, people have reached out to me. They are not sure if they knew me back then, but clearly remember Mrs. Truglio, who offered kindness and freely gave the timeless advice, “Pay attention! Use your brain!” 

Thanks Ma!

Thank you for reading a Journal On! Grand Prompt to Ask Your Grand. I invite you to exercise your writer’s hand and link your prompt response in the comments below. Did you have a unique situation or experience in high school?