How I accidentally learned German and the real meaning of cheating

I was going through an old high school yearbook and came upon this photo above. It reminded me of my typing class a very long time ago.

My dad worked at a heavy equipment dealer that sold bulldozers, backhoes and road-laying equipment. He used to bring home tons of stuff that the company would just throw out anyway (at least that what he said.) Among our valued possessions as kids were typing stands, huge nuts and bolts, big boxes of railroad marking chalk, a large slate chalkboard and lots of manual typewriters the company was getting rid of when electric ones came out.

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About Rufus Dogg

I'm a dog who writes a blog. It is not a pet blog. It is a real blog that talks about real ideas. No, really. I do my own writing, but I have a really, really cool editor who overlooks the fact that I can't really hit the space-bar key cause I don't have thumbs. I talk about everything from politics to social issues to just rambling about local problems. And, sometimes I just talk about nothing in particular. Google+
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5 Responses to How I accidentally learned German and the real meaning of cheating

  1. Great story 🙂
    I didn’t go to typing class either – the teacher didn’t force me into German, though. He just made me run his errands and gave me candy 🙂

  2. Rufus says:

    The advantage of being tortured… er, um I mean taught by nuns 🙂 Candy? hmmmm…

  3. Paul Anater says:

    I don’t care what anybody says, those nuns of yore were smart, hard-working women who knew what they were doing. I got off the bus with Catholicism ages ago but to this day I am happy to have been taught by nuns the whole way through school. In fact, two of the nuns who taught me high school English, Sister Rita and Sister Anne Francis, friended me on Facebook some time ago and it was an absolute pleasure to tell them in person what a profound impact they had on my life.

  4. Rufus says:

    I agree. You knew the rules and you knew the expectations the nuns had of you. AND you knew that if they ever, ever called your parents, you were going to get it at home too. There was a tight net of parents and teachers. And everyone thought that when a nun smacked your knuckles with a ruler, you probably deserved it. (Honestly, most of the time I did.) Another time, I guess.

  5. It is amazing and depressing to contrast this story with what I have seen in the public school system the past few years. A kid simply doing what he was told to get an easy “A” would be an overworked and stressed-out teacher’s dream. How I wish we would fund schools in the states so that skilled teachers would want to be there.