Mr. Goosemen, fresh out of college, was D class's English teacher. At 5'9, his front row of 6'4 and taller students was the offensive front line for Mr. Nardonie's football team. He immediately had the guys move to the back row so he could see the other students. I wasn't a member of the football team, and had no time for football. Homework and work filled my time. Just the same, I was moved to the back of the room. First class assignment was to read "To Kill A Mockingbird," and tell why we thought it was banned in so many communities. I read the book twice and could not come up with any reason for banning the book. Concheta, Simon-the-school-cook's sister, gave me the reason as I scrubbed the school's kitchen floor. I would have gotten an A had Concheta been able to stay and help with my spelling. Instead, I had a big red F on my paper. Nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and prepositions I got. Spelling simply puzzled me.
I wrote about Marmion, and how the military part of the school would play a part in how we might go through life. My first A came with my essay on Kathe Kollwitz. I put everything into that easy. Mom provided the spelling. There wasn't a word Mom couldn't spell.
I lost my afterschool job (working at a diner being catered by the head chef in the school mess hall) when I spilled a dish of cottage cheese on a lady wearing a black dress. I swear a man tripped me on purpose. Being fired gave me more time for my art. I found I could make money with my art. More than the penny-a-minute that I had been earning. Twenty dollars for a portrait of a hound dog. Another twenty for a portrait of an English Pointer. I was ready to do more dog portraits thanks to Walter Foster's How to Draw Dogs books.
Still I didn't know what I would do for the rest of my life to earn a living. Whatever I would do, it couldn’t rely on spelling... How would it look for a man to show up for work with his Mom there to spell for him?
