Sexism & Misogyny at the Place

I know I haven’t posted here in a while. But the recent furor over Donald Trump’s hot-mic reminded me of a story that is not particularly flattering but maybe needs to see the light of day.

It was my first or second year and there was definitely a locker-room culture thriving at the Place. Certain male staff members would ask generously endowed female students to deliver a note to another member of the club. The least offensive one that I can remember went something like, “Check out the knockers on this one.” In the incident I observed (I was in another teacher’s classroom), the receiving party smirked, wrote something to add on, and sent the girl on to another staff member.

I did observe the players huddling together on occasion, guffawing and chortling like schoolboys, if schoolboys guffawed and chortled, There were certain favorite messengers but several students apparently qualified. I was quietly, but obviously, appalled and evidently was denied membership in a group I would never have joined, even if asked.

Disgusting, you say? Absolutely. But if you think it’s only because these were young women who were also students, you’re missing the point and bigger picture. Sexism and misogyny were perhaps more prevalent then (we hadn’t even started debating the Equal Rights Amendment yet) than today, but, obviously those attitudes are not just lurking in the darker corners, but occasionally come strutting into the open.

I guess my question is, how would you feel if it were your daughter or sister who was the object (the absolutely correct word) of those kinds of words and actions? I know my answer.

Go Team!

I’ve been really flattered by the response to this new blog. Thanks to all of you who read it, whether you’ve responded or not. There have been almost 3,000 views so far; I’m glad so many of you are enjoying my little nostalgic trips down West Ripa Avenue.

I know I haven’t posted in a while, but I’ve been busy, not slacking. You know how hectic the beginning of the school year is. Oh, wait, was. But I am still coaching softball, so that makes this my busy time.

It’s ironic that coaching is the last regular job I have left in education, because one of the things that chafed in my first couple years at the Place was the jock mentality that pervaded the high school. The joke was, “How do you get to be a principal? Have a losing season.” Richard Eichhorst, the principal and ex-coach, ex-St. Louis Hawk, was kind of a stereotypical jock and so were at least some, if not most, of those who made up the Tiger coaching staff. It is important to note, socially and historically, that other than the club level GAA stuff, there were no interscholastic athletic teams for the girls at this time, and, therefore, no women coaches, at least at Hancock.

As previously noted, ties were the required uniform for male teachers, unless, of course, you were part of the coaching staff. They could, and almost always did, wear polos; most of their shirts labeled them as coaches, just in case they forgot what their sport was, I guess. However, the decidedly unathletic English Department came up with a kind of anti-jock protest counter-strategy to the double standard, one that we found amusing; the coaching staff, not so much. 

I don’t remember for sure who came up with the idea of English Department polos, but I’m going to give credit to (the late) Curt Kenner. We all jumped on board (as I have noted elsewhere, I really am a team player, even if I reserve the right to choose my teammates), though, and one day shortly thereafter came uniformly dressed in our gold polos, and conspicuously used the secret greeting of, “Hey Coach.” Our shirts all identified us as Hancock English Department; Kenner was tagged “Journalism” in a circular script above the tag, (the late) Debbie Strouth Weissflug was “Drama,” (the late) Bill Blake “Poet in Residence,” etc. I don’t really remember my tag, (but I want to say it was something like “Vocabulary Master”) or Cheryl Berry’s or Joyce Pfaff’s, but it doesn’t really matter. You get the picture.

Shockingly, we found our satire much more amusing than the coaching staff. The boys were a little touchy, proving you don’t have to be a jock to score points.