I had Miss Wright for homeroom all three years, so I saw her every day. I had her for Algebra II, and I was her student assistant along with Jim Pflueger during part of our senior year. We would sit in a windowless closet at the end of the hall next to Miss Wright’s classroom, and we would grade most of the HW or quizzes that had been turned in that day.
Although gruff on the outside, Miss Wright was a sweetheart on the inside. She wanted every student to succeed, although her sternness might seem otherwise. Miss Wright was also the Pep Club sponsor. I would love to hear any stories about her and the Pep Club. She must have been conflicted – rooting for Wildcats and Tigers – her dear, dear Auburn Tigers.
In 11th grade, in one of my classes the teacher received a note in mid-class, and I was told to go to the counselor’s office. The Counselor’s Office? Me? I’d never been to “the counselor’s office” in my life, and I never did again after that day. What was the problem? I didn’t need any counseling. So, I picked up my books and went downstairs to the counselor’s office. The counselor started off slowly. “How have you been doing? Are you having any problems?” “Any problems going on at home?” I didn’t know this woman, never spoke to her before that afternoon. Why was I even there?
“There’s been some concern that something is distracting you from your studies.” I answered that was not the case, that my grades were still good. “Well at your age, certain feelings emerge . . . blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.” Again, I didn’t know this woman from Adam, or Eve for that matter. What was she getting at? I went back to class with no clue. I thought maybe she had to punch a ticket, cross off a box, call every student in school at some point and speak to them. So I asked several classmates, “Have you ever been called to the counselor for no reason?” Couldn’t find anyone who had. It was a mystery.
I eventually figured it out. It was Miss Wright’s look, or rather, her avoidance of my look that gave it away. She was the culprit. She had talked to the counselor. But why? It took another couple of days to figure it out. I kept going over and over the conversation I’d had with the counselor. And then it dawned on me.
Miss Wright was worried that I was getting girl crazy!
Although that was true, I resented her interference, probably for many years afterwards. But eventually I came to appreciate her concern for me and her ability to sense a difference in my behavior.