My mom was never a fountain of information. I once asked her what it was like to live during World War II. Her reply, “Just like any other time.” Hmmm. But I guess I can relate to her answer. I was a teenager in the 60s. That was a wild decade. The Cold War was a daily news item. The social revolution meant a relaxation of former taboos in clothing, schooling, music and drugs. There were heart-breaking assassinations, war, protests and the Beatles. The decade ended with Woodstock and watching our man on the moon on evening television. Yet, I guess it all seemed pretty normal to me. The way things were.
Maybe we are born to the era when we most belong. Or maybe we become subjects of our times. Mr. Prokop would never cut it as a teacher in today’s world. I had him for two semesters of high school chemistry. He is a character I will never forget. My main goal in high school was to not be noticed and I had a seat in the back of the classroom.
He had white hair and mustache. He was a slender, older man, always impeccably dressed, pocket square and all.
It was standard operating procedure for Mr. Prokop to have someone to pick on each semester. Harry was bright and outgoing and he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was adept at back-tracking and seemed to think sparring with Mr. Prokop was great fun. Harry was the go-to for all unanswered chemistry questions and if he didn’t know the answer, “Har-ry, you don’t know your beans from your applesauce,” would echo through the classroom. Another favorite saying, which by the way is not a racial slur, was “Har-ry, call a spade a spade!” I always got the impression Harry and Mr. Prokop spoke outside of class and were on good terms. I like to think that’s true.
It was Mr. Prokop’s habit to walk up and down the aisles of desks, selecting students to go to the board. I can’t for the life of me remember what we did up there. Oddly, when he was finished selecting students, only girls would be standing at the board. After a while, he didn’t bother with the illusion of picking who went to the front, he simply declared, “All the girls, go to the board.” Hey, it was the 60s after all and everybody wore a miniskirt. Were we embarrassed or appalled? I don’t think anyone was. That was kind of the purpose of miniskirts, to show off your legs. If some old fart got his jollies looking at us, no one really cared.
Can you imagine a teacher like Mr. Prokop in today’s classroom? He’d probably be in trouble before he managed to walk across the room to his desk. Was he a good teacher? I believe he knew his material. He certainly had our attention. I bet he was a load of fun in the teacher’s lounge.
I often wonder what today’s children will take from current circumstances. We’re living in another time of unprecedented change. Will this all seem “normal” to them? Know your beans from your applesauce is good advice in any era!
