T.T.Tuc...S.S..Son

The year was 1956 when our family of four moved to Tucson from Frankel City, Texas (population 9). Sammy was not happy about the move because, this being his senior year, he would not be graduating with his close friends. When we walked into the Mabel and Santa Rita church building that first Sunday morning, several girls came and asked me to sit on the second row with them.

Before that Sunday ended, we had learned it was necessary to register for school. “Register” would be the first of many three-syllable words added to our vocabulary. None of the others at church would be attending Tucson High that year, but everyone agreed we should start at the bookstore to register. The only clue we had about required classes was another three-syllable word – Algebra.

Monday morning, Sammy drove me to the high school, and we hunted for the bookstore. Already, anyone we met had hung the moniker “Tex” on Sammy’s drawl. He was my big brother and my protector...or so we thought. Finding the tiny entryway labeled “bookstore,” we went in the door to the left. A big “no no.” Entrances and Up stairways were always on the right; we were sent out to correct our first (of many) assumptions.

“Yes, Ma’am. No Ma’m,” Sam answered any and all inquiries. “We were told we have to buy our books for school.”

“What books do you need?”

“Well, Ma’am; for sure, we need Algebra.

Both ladies searched through every file cabinet in the tiny space, and one of them even went through the (righthand) door behind her in search of any hint of our name. Returning through the (lefthand) door, they were both mystified.

“Do you have your printed schedule with you?” Note that schedule would be a three-syllable word to a Texan.

“No, Ma’am. What does a sked-dew-all look like?”

“Who is your counselor?”

“What is a counselor? And where do I find one?”

“You go across the street to the Main Building. Go up the stairs and, after you have passed the columns, go through any of the doors. Walk straight ahead until you come to a wall of windows; you will see counselors sitting at their desks. They will help you get your schedule.”

Following those directions, we found the counselors’ office. The lady at the front desk said we could not just walk in and expect to be registered. I was assigned to Counselor Miss Smith; she would stick with me for 4 whole years. A man was to counsel Sam. We had to make an appointment (three syllables) to meet with our counselors to work out our schedule.

As it turned out, Tucson High School was the largest school in the Nation that year. We were on triple shifts, from dawn to dusk. Our shift was early morning, and we were out before noon. Before the school year ended, 3,000 students would move into the brand spanking new Pueblo High School, and 2,000 more exited THS’s halls to become Catalina High School.

Academic classes were held in the Main Building; imagine how hot those third-floor classes were without even a fan much less air conditioners. The Vocational Building housed classed fpr training for life’s careers: Home Ec, secretarial classes, auto shop, machinery, and (who knows why?) Algebra. The Annex held the cafeteria, boys PE and girls PE and gyms, band and choir, and the bookstore.

Some quickly learned rules -- Stairways were marked for “Up and Down," and woe unto you if you erred from that rule. Hall monitors sat in every hallway, and one did not dare peek out of the assigned classroom during class hours without a hall pass. Hundreds of students filled the cafeteria for study hall. The wrestling coach was assigned my table to make certain there was no talking; he wasn’t very much help with Algebra.