Manual High School

Manual High School

It is cold outside
I love the snow
I love cold weather
Takes me back
Back to the days of old - over 20 years ago…













***
1982
"I want you to learn all you can while you’re here, because once you leave, it will be different."
Ms. Mitchell spoke honestly to her ninth grade class. She looked good for her age although her age was unknown. I remember it was she who made me believe I could run; achieve and take heed. I assumed I could achieve anything, but the question is, did I listen? "Once you enter High School, you’ll get lost in the crowd. You won’t matter to those teachers, and they’ll just pass you right on to the next grade. Take the time to learn all you can and appreciate what you have here."
Could I hear her?
The years passed…




























***
Freshman year, I entered the doors to Manual High School. I was not popular – unlike my old school where I received straight A’s. At my former school, I still can recall Ms. Gombeski sneaking in a grade that I probably did not deserve. Prior to her knowledge of all of the A’s I had received, she had always given me D’s (I think). I do not recall if she gave me an F, but once she found out how well I was doing in my other classes, I believe that she felt sorry for me, and slithered in a C-. I suppose I deserved it. Did I even know anything about Science? Did Mrs. Gombeski even teach Science? – Or was it her husband, Mr. Gombeski? I can not recall everything that happened 24 years ago - Cole Middle School. However, I do recall Ms. Mitchell. Knobby-Knee-Mitchell is what some of the kids mimicked. Simply, she was a woman who was rather tall; fair completed skin, short curly-modeled hair. A woman who gave me a choice: She never wrote me up when I did not dress for gym, but instead, she talked to me. Then one day, my mother came to back-to-school night, and from that moment on, I had respect for her. Why you might asked. She did not tell my mother how many days that I had missed dressing in gym class attire. In fact, I lied to her.
"Ms. Mitchell, did my mom tell you that I had to dress for gym everyday?
"Yes," she corresponded with my lie.

Was it a lie? What was it? My mother never mentioned it and me knowing Ms. Mitchell, neither did she. All I know is from that day forward; I always dressed for gym and participated in each and every activity. I enjoyed myself. It was my escape. Escape from something that I have no idea, but it was a time I enjoyed. Besides, who fails gym? I do know that I was not necessarily popular. I was not cute or pretty, but was satisfactorily outgoing. I was well known by the other students-the in crowd, the so-called nerds, and those that were bullied - I did not hesitate to exclude anyone. In fact, I did everything I could to be a peacekeeper although I ended up a victim after my stomach ran into a girl’s fist while I was trying to breakup a fight. This school was well known for its problems and mayhem, still I just knew I would not be a part of it. In contrast, each day, I was decked in my hand-me-downs; presuming to be not only a modeled student, but a well behave child to my parents. My parents didn’t play!

Twenty-four years ago, I was the fastest runner in my gym class. I even outran Willie Bozeman. Thinking back now, I wonder what ever happened to him. He was smart, so I just know he was not suckered in with those who did not finish school, on drugs, in prison or dead. I am so sure he made it.


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1983
The school was large. It seemed it was much larger than my last school. It seemed rushed – you know, the kids seemed rushed. It was crowded! The halls buzzed – each kid staring at the other; stagnant freshmen. I was overwhelmed. At this time, in this space, Ms. Mitchell’s voice was probably not heard - reminisced. At this stage, there was a new elitism making us all leery.

Just like every new dot, everyone found a place to fit and comprehend. 23 years ago, I have no idea what type of grades I received. I can not imagine that they were great, yet satisfying as I would not have been able to complete all of my credits in English, Math, Social Studies and Science.

***
My memories wonder back to the days when Junior High Schools gave the mandatory P.A.R. testing. I remember my siblings informing me how important it was that I passed those tests before entering High School. I did; I passed two of the four-part testing the first semester and two the next. I was informed that one would not be able to graduate High School if not all four of the test were complete.


























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1983 – 1984
Ms. Davis was a great music teacher. I assumed I could sing, so I enrolled into two music classes. Humph, I probably could not sing, but I did make BV – Bolt Vibration – two years in a row. Thinking back now, I do recall that my junior year in BV was slightly intimidating, as I was the only junior in the entire class. However, I made my way through with a little encouragement from the Caucasian students. One thing I can say is, peer pressure is a perplexing.

There I was singing, "The Mumbo" with two other alto singers. But when both of them were out sick, and the group was scheduled to perform, I sung – solo - "Do the Mumba-lo" at the top of my lungs! Later, Ms. Davis and the rest of the singing duel told me that they did not realize I was alone, but surprised I was able to carry on as if I were not.



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1983 – 1985
I was standing outside with a few of my gal-pals from the neighborhood. As we prepared our short walk home, one of them informed me of the job information that she had received from her student counselor. My friend passed on the info to me, I called the employer, setup an interview, contacted my second to the oldest sister and she drove me, dressed in my Sunday suit to IBM.








Note: A former High School chum informed me that her student counselor told her that she would not be able to do this and or that. That is unfair. Remind me to research the tasks of a student counselor. At this moment, all I can assumed is that they are there to encourage and inform and mentor. Ms. Christensen did neither for me. A.W. informed me about the job, and God along with the encouragement and aid of my family helped me to obtain and retain it.

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1983 - 1985
For some odd reason (Not to get too personal), I took the liking to a kid, G.J.; he knew it. There I was, in Mr. McCracken’s class. I can recall now, that at that time, I was thinking the class design was unique to me as we sat alphabetically in rows similar to my collage courses.

Mr. McCracken was a very likeable person, very personable, easily liked by his students as well as the staff and a great teacher. Well, he actually was a good teacher as I am sure many of his students learned from his direction. However, I myself did not. One day, he gave us a fun test. We were in groups and whichever group answered the most questions, won. At the time, I felt so pointless and dutifully ignorant, I wished that I could disappear. I did not answer ONE question correctly. Most of the time, I just sat there and stared; I probably would have cried. I had NO business in that class and Mr. McCracken KNEW it. When it was time for me to answer ANY question, I just sat there, trying so eagerly to recall what I had studied. I tried everything to jog my memory, but nothing came to mind and NOTHING spewed from my mouth. Instead, I sat there blankly and shrugged my shoulders, often simply responding, "I don’t know."
And you know, what? I DID NOT. I did NOT know the answer to ANY of the questions. G.J. stared at me. In my mind, I thought he might have a little empathy for me and give me a mercy-date if I just answer just ONE question, but, well, I did not. Instead, my mind was just sedentary.

Once, I was taking a test in Mr. McCracken’s class, and I got very ill. I recall a student sitting in front of me who looked back at me from time to time. I wondered if he knew I was struggling. I was. I became ill, left the class and when I returned to school, Mr. McCracken gave me a make-up test. Guess what. I KNOW I DID NOT ANSWER NOT ONE QUESTION CORRECTLY. Moreover, you know to make matters worse, he gave me a B! Yep, he gave me a B on that test as well as my report card.

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1984 or 1985
Ms. Marsh never asked if I wanted to be a writer, but she seemed to imply that she would encourage me had she known. However, she sat there and allowed me to make so many–too many mistakes on my essay. She corrected them – red marks and scrawl all of my pages. And what did she do? She returned the pages with a big fat B+!
Did she see potential, or was she just faking it?

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1982 through 1985? Mrs. Gombeski, Mr. McCracken and Ms. Marsh were all alike in giving me something I did not deserve. As my memory seems to be waning, I can not say what I deserved from Mrs. Gombeski or Ms. Marsh, but I do know for sure that I did not deserve to receive a passing grade from Mr. McCracken. They failed me. Sadly, I failed myself.

Today, Thursday, February 16th, DPS announced that the school board has decided to close Manual High School for one year. As I look back on those days, I wonder how many students have the "teachers" failed. It saddens me now. Humph! My Alma-Mata. Just how many kids have been failed by this learning institution?








The news reports that 475 students entered Manual High School, but only 95 graduated. What has gone wrong? Ms. Mitchell: "I want you to learn all you can while you’re here, because once you leave, it will be different… "Once you enter High School, you’ll get lost in the crowd... You won’t matter to those teachers, and they’ll just pass you right on to the next grade... Take the time to learn all you can and appreciate what you have here."














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I was blessed or fortunate to have two parents while growing up, and if my parents were not keeping an eye on me, then my siblings were. None of my six siblings nor me has ever seen a day behind bars. We have never used recreational drugs or hustled people. We were not perfect in our home, but assumed to be modeled citizens in our low-class neighborhood. My parents wanted us to make it… make it anywhere where they could be proud and we would be pleased with our achievements.

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I recall our current councilman, Michael Hancock as well as his brother, Daryl. …
Some of us moved from the neighborhood, while some of us remained. Nonetheless, Manual High School was a place I remember. I was not a cheerleader. I was not on the debate team. Nevertheless, I studied speech, as well as many courses of English comprehension and Grammar, music, and drama. I regret not running track although I was a great poised runner in Junior High.

While I know it is not the job of my student counselor or instructors to hold my hand and provide solace within the walls of Manual High School, I can only imagine that a little guidance would have been beneficial. While I have no regrets in the courses I took or my actions afterwards, I can only imagine how beneficial it would have been for me to have been in classes where I was able to comprehend as to what I was being taught. I can not solely blame the teachers, but I wonder what were they teaching ME!

Manual High School, my Alma Matta, is closing "for at least one year." What happens to those displaced students? Superintendent Michael Bennet said that they should transfer to other, more prominent schools! What?!?!?! So, Manual High School was not such a school? How long does it take someone to notice that 475 students enrolled, but only 380 of them were lost between here and nihility? Is Mr. Bennett revealing that Manual High School as well as the entire School district is running a shortage on worthy teachers? I suppose it does prove that the Gombeski’s, McCracken's, and the like are no longer allowed to hold the title of teacher – no matter what their certificate reads. However, it makes me wonder, just how many other Gombeski’s-McCracken's are out there? How many more are just pushed on – allowed to entire life without the proper tools?

This leaves much to examine

Is Mr. Bennett correct in recognizing a problem now? OR has the problem been going on way too long to be corrected? Should DPS put out an A.P.B. in quest for viable teachers?

Today, while many homes do not have both parents present, it makes me wonder if that is just a portion of the problem. Again, DPS is not a babysitter, but it certainly does owe these kids an education – an opportunity to succeed.

I will certainly stay tuned.

Memorable time in 1982:
The blizzard of ’82 - The blizzard that closed the City
I love snow
I love the cold weather
Is Manual High School cold, or did the failing grades turn on the heat?
Is Manual High School cold, or did the superintendent and school officials show them a better place to receive a warmth of education?
Is Manual High School cold, and if so, did the teachers turn a cold shoulder during class?
Is Manual High School cold, or will the greed help keep the extravagant warmer?
Its cold outside….burrrrrrrr!















It is so cold both outside as well as in

I took a stroll through my old neighborhood and the thought came to me. I thought about Home Sales listed in the Saturday Denver Post, and the cost to purchase a home in that area is outrageous. When my parents first purchased their home, in the 70’s, they did not pay more than $7,000 for their home, while today, their home is worth over $300,000. Yes, the neighbor has changed quite a bit. Older neighbors can recall when Blacks were not allowed to live past Downing street and later in the years, York street. As the years went on, and my generation came along, more and more Blacks moved up to Colorado Boulevard, Monaco and further Eastward towards Stapleton Airport.

Now that’s a story. The old Stapleton was a pretty decent airport. Easy access and centrally located. However, today, the old Stapleton area is a safe haven – an entire different world. So much so, that while driving through the newly constructed area, I had gotten so caught-up and mesmerized by my surroundings, that I had almost forgotten where I was. I was reminded of the old Sci-fi movies my brother and I use to watch. It was almost a different world – space and time. It seemed to me as if a new breed of folk had built a place just for "them." I tell ya, I had seen nothing like it in real-time. The area is nice, clean, almost surreally serene. Just makes me think of the show with Rod Sterling, sci-fi music, "doo-doo-doo."

I am one who hates change, but, this was spooky – expansion of nicely built shops that sold things just for "them." I can not fathom the thought that any Black nor White folk I knew would be found in these surroundings. The homes were different from the old Victorian homes were I was raised. And even more so, they were built better than any of the homes in Green Valley Ranch as well as Highlands Ranch. The space in the New Stapleton area was secluded. Specially made for a new breed of folk.

Yes, change was/is among us. What was, is no more. The area surrounding and a few miles where I was born and raised has changed. No longer are the homes occupied by primarily Black folk, but white folks are moving back to the area. Manual High School will close now, only to reopen with a new color skin of folk. Why should the people who are willing to pay a half of million for a home in that area, be bothered with kids who are running down the area? Black schools seem not to produce children who will graduate to be productive students. So what do they do about the majority Black failing school in such a prosperous area? Close it down. Close it down now and let the Blacks go to East, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and South High Schools. Now, lets forget that those schools are already overloaded with students and possibly teachers who do not put much effort into teaching. Hence, more failing schools. But, why should they care? A vast number of White students are not enrolled there.

The plan is a simple one: Move all the Black students out of the inner City so that they can flood the suburbs. Look around you. What do you see? Thirty years ago, a great number of Whites flooded the suburbs while Blacks remained in the inner City. However, today, it is just the opposite. Whites are moving away from the suburbs and back to the City and Blacks are selling the Victorian homes previous owned by their parents and moving to the suburbs. You say you do not see this happening? Well, check the home sales in Saturday paper. Just look! You will see the price of those carefully made homes, selling for $400,000 or ½ a million dollars. My parents paid a little under $10,000 for their home, but today, it is worth over $300,000. Blacks are moving out, Whites are moving in.

Manual High School will have to close so that it can be restructured for the new White students in the neighborhood. Farewell old Manual High School.

Where do I live? In ghetto Green Valley Ranch. Yes, there is an Association - for now, but when the Association is not proactive, it becomes inactive and in the end, is diminished to nothing. And when I first moved here, over 6 years ago, the area was predominately White; there were only 3 other Black families living along the strip. Today, I believe there are only one or two White families out of 100 homes. They did not move to another section of the community, but to a new community where they can get more use of their money, hence the inner City formerly known as the Urban area.

Makes sense to me.

However, I just wish that Mr. Bruce Hoyt, Michael Bennet, Ms. Happy Haynes along with the other supportive DPS Board members, would stop the fabrication that this decision is all in the best interest of the students who attend Manual High School TODAY. It is not! When Thomas Jefferson and the others take in these students, those schools will be far behind too. Mr. Bennett, please, give me a break. Lie to your friends, but not to me. Please tell me (us) when will Denver Public Schools actually look out for the STUDENTS of DPS and not just the selected students or your big business cronies who donate the fat dollars to make the district as they see fit?

It was Denver Public Schools that failed to work for its for 75% of it’s students, and NOT Manual High School. DPS failed these students in so many ways, that it is just sickening and is totally unfair. Denver Public Schools – not Manual High School – owes each and EVERY student an education. Do you mean to tell me that after all those years, that it was unnoted that there was a vast decrease in enrollment and graduating students? You mean to tell me that no one inquired about the knowledge of the students as well as the teachers? No investigation? Nothing? As noted by John Stossel, "GIVE ME A BREAK!"















©Keeba Smith
Hankered Writer and Feared Compressor
K Smith is a columnist, an author and social issues commentator
KSmith023@yahoo.com