Thursday, April 29, 2004

A Whole New Education

Flashback to 1971, a very important year for me.  I graduated from high school, got engaged on my 18th birthday and I found myself in business school.  I had neither the desire nor inclination to go to college.  My parents, regardless, were adamant that all of their children have some form of education, be it college or trade school in order to have a skill to fall back on through life.  And so it was that a mere two weeks or so following high school graduation, I embarked upon the next phase of my education at the Nancy Taylor School of Business. 

This school offered three different areas from which to choose--secretarial, airline or fashion merchandising.  I had no flair for fashion, I certainly didn't want to be winging all over creation away from my own true love.  This narrowed the choice down to a secretarial path which was fine with me because I had discovered in high school that I had a hidden talent for shorthand and I typed fairly well.

Nancy Taylor was the kind of school in which the time it took to graduate depended upon the time it took to complete the necessary requirements.  This could take anywhere from nine to eighteen months, or more if needed.  I received my secretarial degree in February the following year.

This was a good school with a good reputation but actually attending it was quite an experience.  Remember now, it was 1971-72, life was becoming more casual, the Vietnam war was slowly winding down, drugs, hippies and the quest for peace and love was everywhere.  The majority of girls who showed up for class the first day had just come from at least four years of wearing skirts and dresses long enough to barely cover their bottoms!  They wore their hair long, straight, parted in the middle, simply hanging down.

Those days were over--during school hours anyway.  I suppose the idea was to simulate a working day in the office.  Our skirts or dresses had to be no shorter than four inches above the knee.  If the Dean suspected otherwise, you would find yourself on your knees with a ruler held against you to prove otherwise.  Stockings were required at all times and you'd better be prepared with a spare in the event of a "run" or home you'd be sent to change them.  Our hair had to be worn "up" at all times.  Now, none of us had ever worn our hair up, save for those"explosions in a mattress factory" hairdos that some of us showed up with at proms for some reason which I have yet to fathom!  Consequently, we all piled our hair unceremoniously on top of our heads; the result being that we resembled a league of Irish washer-women.  The final touch was, and I kid you not, the requirement to wear short white gloves when outdoors.  Essentially, this meant from our cars to the building in the morn and back to the cars in the afternoon.  Talk about archaic!  That was enough!!  This institute clearly had not caught up with the seventies.

Mixed in with classes of shorthand, typing, English, general business skills, etc. was charm class.  This was the icing on the cake!  We learned how to sit, stand, walk, talk, how to go up and down stairs.  It was unreal and, in retrospect, wildly amusing.  I remember the room being circular, lined with mirrors, lots of purple and a runway.  Yes!  A runway; a miniature version of what you see on any beauty pageant program.  Our "charm" teacher would walk around the room as she spoke and she NEVER took her eyes off herself in the mirror.  I guess this was where I was supposed to learn that "mirror talk" that some women do in the ladies' room.  They don't look at you while they're talking; they look and talk to your reflection!  I never perfected that dreadful skill; guess I would've received an "F"!

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