Strict Discipline And High Standards
Were Hallmarks of Charlie Slick
by Glenn Tunney
“Johnson!!”
Principal Charlie
Slick’s piercing voice boomed across a hallway crowded with
chattering Brownsville High School students. Who could be the
unlucky target of Mr. Slick’s anger on the very first day of the
1961-62 school year? None other than brand-new senior Chuck
Johnson.
Chuck recently
explained to me what he did to get into trouble on his first day as
a senior, forty-one years ago.
“To understand
what I did wrong,” Chuck said, “you need to know that the old
high school on High Street was laid out in a square. The walls
in the school’s halls were light green, and there were dark green
one-way arrows painted on the walls. Those arrows indicated
that students must walk through the halls in only one direction, and
teachers were very strict about enforcing this.
“My home room
teacher was Miss McGinty. Her room was on the corner next to
Mr. Slick’s office. My first period English class was to be
taught by Joe Hall, whose classroom was right next to Miss
McGinty’s room, but in the opposite direction of the student
traffic flow. So according to those green arrows, I would have
to exit my home room and walk all the way around the building to
reach Mr. Hall’s class, which was actually only a few feet away
from my home room door.
“When the bell
rang to go to first period class, Mr. Slick was standing in the
doorway of his office with his arms crossed and feet planted wide.
I exited my home room and turned against traffic to take a short cut
to Mr. Hall’s room. Of course, Mr. Slick saw it, and he
hollered in his shrill James Cagney voice, ‘Johnson!!
Didn’t you see those arrows!!?’
“When Mr. Slick
would holler, everyone would just tremble. He wasn’t a big
man, but he was tough. However, I was now a ‘cool’ senior!
So when Mr. Slick yelled at me about the arrows, I dramatically
ducked, pretending there were arrows flying through the air, and
shouted back, ‘I never even seen the Indians!’
“The kids in the
hall started howling. Mr. Slick hustled over to me, grabbed me
by the back of my neck, and took me into the office, where he had a
big paddle. He bent me over his principal’s desk and gave me
five terrific whacks that brought tears to my eyes! And to
make it worse, I got another beating when I got home, because when
you got paddled in those days, the principal called the house and
you got it again that night!
“My classmates
and I still joke about how I was only two minutes into my senior
year when I became one of the few students paddled by Charlie
Slick.”
I said to Chuck in
surprise, “Are you saying that Mr. Slick didn’t paddle students
very often?”
Chuck laughed, then
said softly, “By then, he didn’t have to.”
Maybe not by the
1960's. But early in his teaching career, Charlie Slick was
still earning his tough reputation. Ed Porter, now of St.
Augustine Beach, Florida, learned that Charlie had a hair trigger.
“I was in
Mr. Slick’s class in 1942-43,” Ed told me. “He kept a
big flat paddle on which he had drawn a large star in white chalk.
Any boy who misbehaved in class was called to the front of the room
and told, 'bend over and grab your ankles.’ Mr. Slick would
swing the paddle and place an imprint of the star on the posterior
of the mischief maker. That imprint remained visible to
everyone for the rest of the school day. It was a source of
amusement for the girls and a kind of badge of honor among the guys.
As I recall, Georgie Mitchell collected the most honor badges in my
class.”
There was more to
Charlie Slick than his uncompromising disciplinary methods, but his
strictness usually assured that he had the undivided attention of
his students. Charlie taught math from 1939 until 1960, then
served as high school principal until 1964.
Burte John of
Pittsburgh recalled, “He was truly a very good teacher, because he
made you so afraid of him that you tried harder! That is
probably why math was my best subject, and I have used it in every
one of my jobs.”
Jean Huston Bright
of Brownsville concurred. “He would say a list of figures to the
class,” she declared, “then point his finger at you for the
answer. That is why I can add faster mentally than by using a
calculator!”
Charlie believed in
the Socratic method of instruction. Ask him a question, and
the process would begin.
“If you
couldn’t solve a math problem and asked him for help,” said
Cicely Laverdi Forcina of Republic, “you always ended up solving
it yourself. He’d ask you more questions than you asked
him!”
“I was absolutely
a wreck before attending his classes,” exclaimed Norma Ryan of
Brownsville, “and I must say that I studied more for his classes
than for any others out of fear! You would think that it would
be hard to learn out of fear, but he had a way of teaching that made
it remain in my brain. He was gifted!”
“He was a
no-nonsense teacher,” agreed Rosalie Coughenour of Hopwood, “who
would accept nothing but your best effort. Most of the
students in our class made an effort to do our best so we would not
be on the receiving end of one of his famous, very vocal
‘mini-lectures.’”
What did Rosalie
think of Charlie’s demanding classroom methods?
“I didn't
perceive him as a mean teacher,” she said. “I perceived
him as being a bit frustrated at wanting us to leave his class with
optimum knowledge, knowing that we did not all take advantage of
that opportunity. Outside of the classroom, he was congenial
and friendly.”
Norma Ryan also saw
the congenial side of Charlie Slick, although not until years later.
“The memory of him
being so very stern lived in my mind until many years later,”
Norma said. “After I was married , I saw him on a totally
different level. He was my uncle Vince Ryan's friend, and that
is when I saw a side of Mr. Slick that was the opposite of his
teaching persona. He had a great sense of humor, and he
was such a nice gentleman. I once told him how I had feared
his class, and he laughed and thought that was so funny. I
must admit that even then, I found it hard to call him
‘Charlie.’ He was still ‘Mr. Slick’ to me.”
In the early
1960's, Charlie left the classroom and became the high school
principal.
“Why did Charlie
accept the principal’s job?” I asked Charlie’s daughter Lee, a
retired teacher who still lives in Brownsville.
“I think that just as in many occupations, you want to climb
the ladder,” Lee said. “He had earned his master’s
degree at West Virginia and then earned his principal’s papers.
He just thought he would like to move up, and I suppose the increase
in salary was a factor.
“After he became
principal, I remember he said to me once, ‘Lee, when you’re a
teacher, you’ve got your own problems. When you’re a
principal, you’ve got everybody’s problems.’ I don’t
think he liked being a principal that much.”
Victoria Vavases
Thornton of Cumberland, Maryland saw first-hand how Charlie dealt
with students called to the principal’s office.
“I worked as an
‘office girl’ for Mr. Slick during the 1961-62 school year,”
Victoria explained. “As an office helper, I often had the
task of going to classes to ‘escort’ students to the office so
that Mr. Slick could talk with them. Many students were a bit
reluctant to come with me. Mr. Slick was a strong
disciplinarian, but he was always fair and held high expectations
for his students. The students knew the rules, and if they
chose to disregard the limits set before them, there were
consequences.”
“I graduated from
Brownsville in 1964,” added Paula Terreta Skrobot of Columbus,
Ohio. “I remember Mr. Slick as being short of stature but a
very stern disciplinarian. I never had any problems with him,
but some of the guys did, and he sure knew how to set them straight.
He made the ‘tough guys’ know who was in charge, and I think the
students really respected him for it.”
However, even
Charlie could bend — a bit.
“A few of us
girls went to him to ask if we could please wear trousers in the
winter,” Paula said. “At that time, girls couldn't wear
trousers to school. Most of us walked to school, and it could
be very cold wearing skirts. Mr. Slick finally let us wear
pants to school. But only under our skirts or dresses, and
then we had to go into the girls’ room and take them off before
class!”
Charlie Slick set
high standards for himself, and he set high standards for his
students.
“He expected children
to come to school with a serious attitude towards their
education,” commented Victoria Thornton, “and he had a unique
way of reminding students that the privilege of obtaining an
education carried with it the responsibility to put forth one’s
best effort at all times.”
“He was an
excellent teacher,” observed Bob Simpson of Vacaville, California.
“He demanded performance from his students, and he was very
aggressive in his pursuit of excellence. Some students were
intimidated because of his relentless exhortation to encourage them
to excel, but personally, I wish there were more teachers like
him.”
Charlie Slick’s
students have vivid memories of him. But perhaps the most
revealing vignettes about this man come from athletes and coaches
with whom he was associated on the football and baseball fields.
Next week, some of Charlie’s former athletes and fellow coaches
will join us to share some hilariously classic “Charlie Slick”
stories. Charlie wouldn’t mind, for as these tales have been
retold over the years, often in Charlie’s presence, among those
laughing hardest was Charlie himself.
These articles appear weekly in the Sunday Uniontown HERALD-STANDARD. If you enjoy reading them, please let the editors know. You may e-mail your comments to Mike Ellis (Editor) at [email protected] or Mark O'Keefe (Managing Editor - Day) at mo'[email protected]
Readers may contact Glenn Tunney at 724-785-3201, [email protected] or 6068 National Pike East, Grindstone, PA 15442.
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