The Ghost of Corinth Elementary School

by John Lundgren ('62)

Many years ago there was an old brick elementary school building where the gym now stands. This wonderful old building was filled with great places to hide and jump out at unsuspecting classmates.

One day while attempting to mug a fellow student, I discovered a perfect niche in the hallway where a large heating duct had been removed. I stepped into position and noticed something amazing. The voices of my teacher, Mrs. Howenstein, and my classmates came filtering down the heating duct right to my hiding spot.

Taking advantage of this wonderful discovery, I stuck my head up the duct and started making weird noises. Then I returned to my class which was in an uproar with classmates pointing to the heating grate on the wall. I simply took my seat and basked in the glory of creating a mild pandemonium.

The very next day I asked permission to go to the "basement" as it was called. (The facilities actually were in the basement three floors down.) Again I went to my secret niche and stuck my head up the duct work. Not being happy with the ordinary weird sounds, I stepped my performance up a notch.

What joy I experienced when I returned to class with every one jabbering and pointing to the grate on the wall. Only one person in the room was not looking at the grate. Mrs. Howenstein had her eyes trained on me, but even so, I thought I had pulled it off.

Of course, I could not stop this routine now, and I asked permission to go to the basement again the next day. I made a bee-line to my secret niche and right in mid-performance I noticed two black, pointed ladies' shoes below. I pulled my head out of the heating duct and was greeted by Mrs. Costello who immediately collared me all the way up to Mrs. Howenstein's room.

All the kids sat with wide grins because Mrs. Howenstein had explained to them what was about to occur. Yup, I had been set up!

I received a "not-so-stern" lecture from Mrs. Howenstein, but all the time she was fighting back a smile.

Maude Howenstein was a teacher you could never forget. She was kind and understanding making her classroom a very special place. Over the years I had opportunities to relive my misadventures with her, and she always responded with kind words and a big smile.

You see, Mrs. Howenstein treated us just like we were part of her family.

Teachers Who Made A Difference

by Robin Munson Ranado Champagne ('74)

  We all have had them, people who walk into our lives during our formative years and make a dent that stays forever. Some of the dents are just dimples and make us smile. Some of the dents are scars that haunt our dreams. I thought I would throw this topic out there hoping to inspire others to pour their heart out about the pros and cons of some of the infamous teachers at CHS. It might save some dollars on therapy.

          I started school in 1961 at the South Corinth School with Mrs. Rivette. My stay there was short. I guess that was a good thing. I was lucky. Mrs. Rivette liked me and a friendship was started that could only be appreciated when I returned to Corinth as a single parent in 1995. Her dedication to CHS showed each time she greeted alumni at football games or basketball games. She always made me feel like I mattered in the sea of spectators.

          Before you stop reading, thinking I am going to go on and on about each and every teacher I had for thirteen years, read on. In October of that year I moved on up to the big time, Main Street School where Mrs. Katherine Harris taught me the fundamentals of learning - readin', 'ritin' and 'rithmetic. She was like a grandmother to me. I enjoyed being in her class. She was so proud of my reading level. She remembered me all throughout school and always took the time to say hi and find out how I was doing. These first teachers are so important to our self-esteem.

          1963 found me at the Big School on Oak Street where Mrs. Monthony saw we ate all our lunch. I know I have some of you remembering now! You are probably rubbing your stomach as you read. Stuffing things in milk cartons did not work! I still clean my plate! In '66 I was in Bessie McKnight's fifth-grade class. She inspired learning through games. Whether we were racing creepy crawlers or cars cut out of McCall's, you always wanted to be in the front line.

          Two years later I was in the high school. Middle School wasn't even thought of yet. It was a whole new world where several teachers shared your day. Mr. Murphy didn't like my talking. I feel bad knowing my Mom went to her grave still thinking I stayed after school to write the Declaration of Independence for him because of my good penmanship. Who could forget handsome Mr. Scaglione or Mr. Kessler. OK, so the hormones started kicking in. Mr. Best was the coolest. I hated science but learned a lot from him. Our science class was even mentioned on WGY, because you-know-who wrote in about spawning salmon.

         My ability to talk endlessly about nothing got me into trouble more than once. Mr. Stein sent me to detention for saying "crap". Today I am sure much worse is said in the classroom. That event inspired my one and only visit to the principal's office. I was a bit of a goody two-shoes, always wanting to stay on the right side of everyone. And yes, a brown-noser, with always the right words to say. I was fortunate that God blessed me with a fair amount of intelligence and academics came easy to me. I was a teacher's dream. Except for that darned old science that I had to take. Good ol' Mr. VanNoy saw that I passed the Chemistry Regents with a 65. I thought that was because of his generosity. Now I wonder if he just didn't want to suffer through another year with me in his class.

          As teenagers some of our teachers become life-long friends. We look to them for support and guidance and yes, approval. Mr. Nolan taught us history and made us better citizens. He made sure when we turned 18 we registered to vote. Mr. Miller taught us about humanity through his Peace Corp stories. Mr. Redfield taught us about service to our country.

          I think the teacher who made the biggest difference in my life is Mrs. Joan Welch. I don't think it was so much because today I can bake bread and sew on a button as it was because of her compassion for her students, colleagues, and the countless people she didn't even know by name. She always had more irons in the fire than anyone else I knew. She was a devoted wife, loving mother, dedicated teacher, class advisor, and a humanitarian to boot. Some days when it didn't matter to anyone else you always knew it mattered to her. She showed me that a woman could have it all if she was willing to work hard.

          Graduation in 1974 was a very sad day for me. I knew I was leaving behind a support group that had guided me through thirteen very important years in my life. I wondered if I'd make it without their stern words, warm hearts, and patience. Thirty-two years have passed since that day and I'm still here thanks to the great start I had at CHS.

          There are countless teachers not mentioned who aren't forgotten. I'll save those names for another day. Better yet, maybe someone else will pick up where I left off.