1967 - 1970: TEACHING BROTHER YEARS
After visiting friends and relatives up and down California, I joined a group of Salesians in Richmond to commute to San Francisco each day for summer school at USF and at SF State. I was chosen to drive the community's van from Richmond, across the Bay Bridge, and up Fell Street to USF. Then I handed the keys to those going to SF State. For five years I had been sheltered from 'the world' and was shocked to see the hippies each morning in the panhandle of Golden Gate Park. Each morning we would see new colorful hippie busses and more hippies. The newspapers told graphic stories of what was going on there. After school we headed out on Oak St. a few blocks away from Haight Ashbury. Jimmy Hendrix was nearby entertaining the crowd.
I was fascinated and puzzled by what was going on there, but I was too focused on library science classes to give it much attention. Besides, I was commuting from Richmond and didn't have time to stop. I found the graduate work easy after the rigors of seminary academics. Soon, summer school was over, so I headed for Watsonville to teach at my alma mater. For the next two years, I found out what 'practical training' was all about. Brothers in this phase of training were loaded with work to test their mettle in Salesian life. My duties included supervising a dormitory of 30 high school seminarians; teaching English grammar, drivers education, and typing; supervising the dining room and study hall; serving as editor of the school newspaper, and running the athletic program with another teaching Brother. I also took an extension class from UC Berkeley at Gilroy in transformational linguistics so that I could teach the Roberts Series. Since I was assigned the job as school newspaper editor, I saved a few editions which give a good feel for junior seminary life from 1967 to 1969: February 1969 April 1969. I also kept a copy of freshman initiation stories that my senior English students had written. The stories are embellished since I was teaching the use of colorful adjectives, but they recount long-standing initiation traditions for freshman seminarians. I recall sharing my exhausting workload with a father of one of my students. He commented, 'You think you have it bad. Working 8 to 4 every day and raising kids 24/7 is no joy ride either.' I recalled his comments when my sister, Joyce, sent a picture of her third baby, Colleen. She and Mike were facing their own challenges.
When June of 1968 arrived, I had proved my mettle for the first year of practical training and returned to USF. Instead of commuting from Richmond, I moved into the Provincial headquarters on the corner of Franklin and O'Farrell (the old Archbishop's residence across from the Jack Tar Hotel). I enjoyed the early morning walk to USF where I attended daily mass at St. Ignatius Church before library science classes. I could spy on the local hippies and check out the view of the Avenues from the library's roof top where I usually ate my bag lunch. I continued this ritual for the next two summers. One of those summers, in addition to studying library science, I was assigned to help teach math to elementary school students attending Cathedral High School. It was my first experience working with kids, mostly black, from the housing projects. They could swear like sailors but didn't mean to offend, and they were thankful for my help. Another summer I helped at a boys club at St. Agnes parish near Haight Ashbury. By now I was used to their colorful vocabulary. I joined a few other Brothers in keeping the kids off the streets playing basketball and ping pong with them. One of the boys thanked me for showing up every day, 'Brother Jim. I'm glad I can come here every day. My mom sends me here to stay out of trouble and she's busy with the guys who knock on our door day and night.' Back at the Provincial House, the teaching brothers were closely monitored. One of the supervising priests was suspicious that we were sneaking out at night. When we returned late one night after taking a group of boys from St Agnes to the Ice Capades, the priest was waiting up for us sure that he had caught us at last. He was disappointed when we showed him the tickets from the show. He would also turn off the TV in the living room when he was ready to go to bed. Sometimes that was in the late innings of a Giants game. We learned to make a racket like we were going to bed, then we would sneak out to the Jack Tar Hotel to watch the end of the game. I think the priest would have been disappointed that we hadn't snuck out for other entertainment. The biggest challenge was on July 16, 1969 at 6:32 am when Apollo 11 took off. We were forbidden to watch it because that would be our time for morning prayers. I sat in the back of the chapel until everyone was singing then snuck into the living room, turned on the TV without sound and watched the take-off. When I told my fellow Brothers about it after breakfast, they were glad that someone got away with it. They all kept it secret.
For my third year of practical training I was assigned to teach at Salesian High School in Richmond where I had attended my first two years of junior seminary. First, I had to return to Watsonville to attend a short retreat before taking my final (perpetual) vows. Despite a few challenging times, I was committed to remaining a Salesian, teaching one more year, and finishing the seminary program with four years of theology. After the ceremony, I packed my bags for Richmond for my first experience outside a seminary setting.
When I arrived at Salesian High, I saw that my old seminary had been transformed into a 'day school' with no boarders. I was assigned to teach English, remedial reading, and journalism while also serving as moderator of the school newspaper, running the bookstore/candy store, and coaching track. I finally could teach literature in addition to grammar, but the grammar for juniors was new to me (based on structural linguistics). I guess transformational linguistics was passé. Remedial reading was also new. I would be teaching about 40 freshman boys who were behind grade level in reading skills. When I asked the principal for a textbook, he said, 'See that box of Readers Digests over there. That should do just fine.' When I expressed my frustration later, he sent me to evening classes at Holy Names College in Oakland. After I aced the course, remedial reading was dropped from my teaching load second semester. I continued as moderator of the school newspaper and kept a copy which reflects student life at Salesian High in September 1969.
When track season arrived, I had hoped to coach long distance since I ran cross country and the mile. Instead, I was asked to coach field events. I read up on triple jump, high jump, discus, shot putt, and pole vault to learn techniques. But pole vaulting through me for a loop since I could not demonstrate techniques and had no athletes who could vault over the qualifying bar. After a few days of practice, one of the boys told me, 'I think Richmond High [just behind the fence] is practicing pole vault today. Can some of us ask to join?' I sent him under a hole in the fence. Richmond High's coach waved our would-be pole vaulters under the fence. That year Salesian High won several track meets from the points we gained from our novice pole vaulters. When opposing coaches asked me what techniques I used to train to our new vaulters, I said, "I can't divulge. It's a closely kept secret." It was all about a hole in the fence.
When the seniors graduated in June, I had completed three years of practical training. Next was my final summer school session at USF to be followed by four years of theology and ordination to the priesthood. During that final year at Salesian High I sensed great turmoil among the Salesians. Many were not following the rules of the order (I found out years later that three of the Salesians had been involved in sexual abuse incidents. One ended up in San Quentin). I looked for a dedicated model to follow like Fr. Brainard who taught science. He isolated himself from the rule breakers in the community. I wasn't looking forward to any such isolation. I didn't want to commit to a religious order in what I considered was a crisis mode, and I began to consider life as a layman or as a family man. During summer school I asked the Provincial for a year off to check out these other options. He had already received many similar requests that summer and was frustrated by another one, so he stated, 'I will file for a dispensation from your perpetual vows so that you can freely examine your options.' This was a more radical option than I had requested. But I understood his frustration and accepted his offer.
A few days later, I was looking at the library jobs posted on the USF library science bulletin board. I applied for a high school librarian's position at Wheatland High School. In late August, I traveled to Wheatland for an interview. I met with the principal, Fred Osmond, answered all his questions, then toured the campus with him. He offered me the job after the tour. I accepted on the spot.
The Prefect at Salesian High wrote me a check for $700. My dad helped me find a car in San Jose, a 1965 VW beetle, and loaned me some money for my first apartment in Yuba City. I drove to UC Berkeley to take a late summer session education class to complete my library credential. I crammed as much as I could into a vintage travel trunk and piled the rest of my belongings on top of it in the back of the VW. But the beetle wouldn't start. A few Salesians who were saying good-bye gave me a push out the old seminary's gate. My seminary days were over.
