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The Superficial Years
Society began to change drastically in 1968 and not for the better, in my opinion. In my day, each neighborhood had its own ethnic identity centered around the school. The students walked to school. Many of the teachers lived nearby and walked too. Driving was a luxury. Only the fathers drove but worked nearby and could walk when the car broke down. Almost every day my mother would send me to a neighborhood store to pick up one or two things. I skipped, ran, hopped to the dairy, the bakery, the dime store, the drug store. My mother gave me a nickel and I'd stop at the soda fountain for a root beer or ice cream. Most homes had three generations of the same family. The grandparents lived downstairs. The parents and children lived upstairs. Even if the mother had to work outside the home, some adult was always home, watching out for every child. On Saturday the men worked in the yard and made repairs around the house while the women worked indoors. On Sunday, everyone went to church - everything else was closed except the drug store that was open only a few hours so medicine could be picked up. They sold the Sunday newspaper too - in plain brown wrappers. My dad drove us to church although we could have walked. On Sunday afternoon we visited relatives who lived on farms. I milked the cows! I climbed the trees. I picked asparagus. Now its drive, drive, drive, drive, drive. Driving is now a necessity. No one works in the neighborhood - local companies are out of business. No one shops in the neighborhood - local stores are out of business. Kids are bused for miles to far away schools because the local school has closed. . Mothers work away from home. The grandparents have disappeared. Everyone seems to leave home for the weekend. Nobody knows who they are any more. No one is home. Now schools are being closed, consolidated, given weird names. They recently renamed Hall School for some Mexican who never lived in Grand Rapids. The Mexican children in the community needed a school named after a Mexican for their self-esteem. There was no school named for Casmir Kuscusko. No school named for Queen Wilhelmina. Why don't the Polish and Dutch students need a school named for their self-esteem? My father didn't speak English. Why didn't the public school provide bi-lingual education in Dutch for him? Why did my mother have to read the newspaper to him? Maybe I'll list these weirdo name changes here. Eventually. I know I don't care. Article: Public Schools Heading: MyGrandRapids Services Page Web site MyGrandRapids
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