DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | Dorothy Schramm newspaper clippings, 1949-1955 (folder 1 of 2) | Women's Home Companion Article: "How Minneapolis Beat The Bigots" Page 5

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Dorothy Schramm newspaper clippings, 1949-1955 (folder 1 of 2)

Women's Home Companion Article: "How Minneapolis Beat The Bigots" Page 5

elementary teaching still has to grant almost two thousand emergency licenses to fill its quota of nine thousand teacher positions.
Raise your teaching-college standards and good students will rush to apply. The theory has been proven. But what can you do to put it into practice? Through your Parent-Teacher Associations or the American Association of University Women, you can:
1 Ask your local school administrators to hire qualified teacher applicants on the basis of personality, general intelligence and broad cultural experience.
2 Find out whether teachers in your town are permitted to go on the job without first having studied children themselves.
3 Write your state legislature about your state university, asking specifically whether its professional-education department is financed as adequately as its liberal-arts department.
4 Endorse general federal aid to education, based on the state's ability to pay. In some states such aid is the only means for changing and improving teacher preparation. 
5 Agitate for better standards. Do not let the teacher shortage deter you. show bright young people you mean business. Insist that your teacher-preparing institutions be selective.
Parents are the best people to do all these things. In the last analysis they run the public schools and are directly responsible for the kinds o teachers who teach their children.
[THE END]

[[bold]]THE RIDDLE[[end bold]]
[[italics]]from page 38[[end italics]]
forward, kissing her lightly on each cheek.
"Fay, you look ravishing. I love your new hairdo. You must have lost all of ten pounds. Us gals is green with envy."
Fay smiled. "Aren't you nice! You really think I've changed?" 
"Yes, indeed. Of course we've always loved you--but something new has been added."
"You know, I was thinking," Fay conceded, "that maybe Greg was right that last evening when he said I was too dull and too devoted, to easy to take for granted and that my only feminine wile was compliance."
Virginia launched Fay in the party, thinking to herself that Fay was a much more convenient guest than she had once been. Of course she had always been gracious and tolerant but she had been lacking in the depth of understanding which personal problems of her own had given her.
"My dress may be familiar," Fay told the laughing stranger who came up to her, "but I never wear the same face twice!"
But she was still uneasy with her new self. When she got home sh took the nursery rhyme book up to her bedroom. Frowning a little she read:
[[italics]]But if this be I, as I hope it be,
I've a little dog at home and he'll know me.
If it be I he'll wag his little tail,
If it be not I he'll bark and he'll wail[[end italics]]
Sitting there in bed almost shaking like the woman in the nursery rhyme, Fay began to sense her trouble: She had no little dog..
IN THE next few weeks she did not have much time to brood. She was invited out a great deal and unquestionably for herself alone. Few of the couples who had been the Forrests' mutual friends had failed to take her side in the matter, partly because Greg had left town anyway and partly because, poor girl, she had been wronged. This sympathy would quickly have worn itself out if it had not been followed by her newly gained poise of manner, apparent light-heartedness and talent for flattery. 
Because of her social activity she was able to devote less time to young Rickey than formerly but she made it count more. AT first she had found her son rather baffling but now he seemed to respond as well as everyone else to her awakened femininity. Where once she would have cajoled with tears in her voice and pleaded for some small concession, she was now assured and gaily turned his contrariness inside out. The child of a broken home was supposed to suffer from insecurity. Rickey, however, flourished. He enjoyed being the man of the family. What he lost in gentleness he gained in stimulation, vitality and in the satisfaction of being treated as an equal.
She worried about him sometimes, though, feeling that a boy should need his father. She wanted to ask him if he missed Greg but she didn't know how to phrase the question.
"It's not much of a family for you," she said tentatively, "with just me."
"That's all right," he reassured her. "I [[italics]]like[[end italics]] being able to sing in bed in the mornings and play ball in the living-room."
Fay received a letter from her lawyer asking if it would be convenient for her to see him on a question of a property settlement. Mr. Forrest, added the lawyer with legal diffidence, would be present.
For a moment Fay stopped breathing. She held her breath for the brief period it took to examine her emotions. Something--a feeling of half excitement, half apprehension-- stirred in the pit of her stomach but nothing else happened.And now at last, she thought, she would be able to find out whatever had become of Fay Forrest. "If this be I, as I hope it be--" Well, Greg would know--but would he bark or wag his tail? Naturally she took tremendous pains with her appearance.
"Gee, Ma," said Rickey admiringly, as she kissed him good-by and left him with the sitter. "You look keen. You look twenty--or anyway thirty." 
"Thank you, darling," she smiled. She had not told him she was going to see his father.
Greg and the lawyer were waiting for her when she arrived. There were papers to sign but it didn't take long. They were all polite, friendly. Fay was in a hurry to get Greg to herself. Outside he suggested tea and she accepted. Over the rim of the cup she looked at him, wondering how to bring up the subject at the front of her mind.
"Greg," she started tentatively, "do you--I mean am I--well have I changed very much since--?"
Now he really looked at her as if for the first time that day.
"No, I don't think so. You're just about the same."
"Well, anyway, I'm thinner," she prompted.
"Yes. You ought to watch that. If you lose too much weight it will make you look older."
She stared at him with a feeling of astonishment, a sudden sense of recognition, not of herself but of him. "Why, Gregory Forrest, you're not the little dog at all. You're the peddler."
"What?"
"Yes," she said, looking back over the years, "you went around snipping off petticoats, making people shiver and freeze, just in order to cut them down to your size."
"Oh come on, Fay--make sense!"
"Never mind." She gathered up her purse, smiling. "I have to go now. You must come and visit us some afternoon. It's been good seeing you."
Outside, she breathed deeply, relieved to find that it really had been good.
She let herself into the house with her key.
Rickey called out, "Who's that? O, it's you, Ma. Good."
A warm feeling flooded over her like spring thaw after a winter deep freeze.
"Yes," she said lovingly, "yes, it's me. And you're the clever one that knew who the peddler was all along."
Rickey smiled up at her and she knew that, with him, her words did not have to make sense, they just had meaning.
"Sure, Ma. If you say so."
She tousled his thick hair with grateful fingertips.
"And what have [[italics]]you[[end italics]] been doing while I was gone, little doggy?" [THE END]
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Woman's Home Companion 93

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elementary teaching still has to grant almost two thousand emergency licenses to fill its quota of nine thousand teacher positions. Raise your teaching-college standards and good students will rush to apply. The theory has been proven. But what can you do to put it into practice? Through your Parent-Teacher Associations or the American Association of University Women, you can: 1 Ask your local school administrators to hire qualified teacher applicants on the basis of personality, general intelligence and broad cultural experience. 2 Find out whether teachers in your town are permitted to go on the job without first having studied children themselves. 3 Write your state legislature about your state university, asking specifically whether its professional-education department is financed as adequately as its liberal-arts department. 4 Endorse general federal aid to education, based on the state's ability to pay. In some states such aid is the only means for changing and improving teacher preparation. 5 Agitate for better standards. Do not let the teacher shortage deter you. show bright young people you mean business. Insist that your teacher-preparing institutions be selective. Parents are the best people to do all these things. In the last analysis they run the public schools and are directly responsible for the kinds o teachers who teach their children. [THE END] [[bold]]THE RIDDLE[[end bold]] [[italics]]from page 38[[end italics]] forward, kissing her lightly on each cheek. "Fay, you look ravishing. I love your new hairdo. You must have lost all of ten pounds. Us gals is green with envy." Fay smiled. "Aren't you nice! You really think I've changed?" "Yes, indeed. Of course we've always loved you--but something new has been added." "You know, I was thinking," Fay conceded, "that maybe Greg was right that last evening when he said I was too dull and too devoted, to easy to take for granted and that my only feminine wile was compliance." Virginia launched Fay in the party, thinking to herself that Fay was a much more convenient guest than she had once been. Of course she had always been gracious and tolerant but she had been lacking in the depth of understanding which personal problems of her own had given her. "My dress may be familiar," Fay told the laughing stranger who came up to her, "but I never wear the same face twice!" But she was still uneasy with her new self. When she got home sh took the nursery rhyme book up to her bedroom. Frowning a little she read: [[italics]]But if this be I, as I hope it be, I've a little dog at home and he'll know me. If it be I he'll wag his little tail, If it be not I he'll bark and he'll wail[[end italics]] Sitting there in bed almost shaking like the woman in the nursery rhyme, Fay began to sense her trouble: She had no little dog.. IN THE next few weeks she did not have much time to brood. She was invited out a great deal and unquestionably for herself alone. Few of the couples who had been the Forrests' mutual friends had failed to take her side in the matter, partly because Greg had left town anyway and partly because, poor girl, she had been wronged. This sympathy would quickly have worn itself out if it had not been followed by her newly gained poise of manner, apparent light-heartedness and talent for flattery. Because of her social activity she was able to devote less time to young Rickey than formerly but she made it count more. AT first she had found her son rather baffling but now he seemed to respond as well as everyone else to her awakened femininity. Where once she would have cajoled with tears in her voice and pleaded for some small concession, she was now assured and gaily turned his contrariness inside out. The child of a broken home was supposed to suffer from insecurity. Rickey, however, flourished. He enjoyed being the man of the family. What he lost in gentleness he gained in stimulation, vitality and in the satisfaction of being treated as an equal. She worried about him sometimes, though, feeling that a boy should need his father. She wanted to ask him if he missed Greg but she didn't know how to phrase the question. "It's not much of a family for you," she said tentatively, "with just me." "That's all right," he reassured her. "I [[italics]]like[[end italics]] being able to sing in bed in the mornings and play ball in the living-room." Fay received a letter from her lawyer asking if it would be convenient for her to see him on a question of a property settlement. Mr. Forrest, added the lawyer with legal diffidence, would be present. For a moment Fay stopped breathing. She held her breath for the brief period it took to examine her emotions. Something--a feeling of half excitement, half apprehension-- stirred in the pit of her stomach but nothing else happened.And now at last, she thought, she would be able to find out whatever had become of Fay Forrest. "If this be I, as I hope it be--" Well, Greg would know--but would he bark or wag his tail? Naturally she took tremendous pains with her appearance. "Gee, Ma," said Rickey admiringly, as she kissed him good-by and left him with the sitter. "You look keen. You look twenty--or anyway thirty." "Thank you, darling," she smiled. She had not told him she was going to see his father. Greg and the lawyer were waiting for her when she arrived. There were papers to sign but it didn't take long. They were all polite, friendly. Fay was in a hurry to get Greg to herself. Outside he suggested tea and she accepted. Over the rim of the cup she looked at him, wondering how to bring up the subject at the front of her mind. "Greg," she started tentatively, "do you--I mean am I--well have I changed very much since--?" Now he really looked at her as if for the first time that day. "No, I don't think so. You're just about the same." "Well, anyway, I'm thinner," she prompted. "Yes. You ought to watch that. If you lose too much weight it will make you look older." She stared at him with a feeling of astonishment, a sudden sense of recognition, not of herself but of him. "Why, Gregory Forrest, you're not the little dog at all. You're the peddler." "What?" "Yes," she said, looking back over the years, "you went around snipping off petticoats, making people shiver and freeze, just in order to cut them down to your size." "Oh come on, Fay--make sense!" "Never mind." She gathered up her purse, smiling. "I have to go now. You must come and visit us some afternoon. It's been good seeing you." Outside, she breathed deeply, relieved to find that it really had been good. She let herself into the house with her key. Rickey called out, "Who's that? O, it's you, Ma. Good." A warm feeling flooded over her like spring thaw after a winter deep freeze. "Yes," she said lovingly, "yes, it's me. And you're the clever one that knew who the peddler was all along." Rickey smiled up at her and she knew that, with him, her words did not have to make sense, they just had meaning. "Sure, Ma. If you say so." She tousled his thick hair with grateful fingertips. "And what have [[italics]]you[[end italics]] been doing while I was gone, little doggy?" [THE END] [[Bottom of page]] Woman's Home Companion 93