Yvonne or Sophia

I was still in Mrs. Bowers class. God she had hairy arms. The things we notice. I liked her. We figured out our weight and size on jupiter. Remember, Alan Shepherd had made his first flight, as well as John Glen. It was a memorable activity for me.

Somehow, I learned that Yvonne was my middle name despite the fact that was the name I was familiar with. In the Netherlands I was known as Vonnie and only knew that. For a strange reason, I found out that my first name was Sophia.

So I asked for an explanation from my parents. My parents said that the name Yvonne came from a cologne bottle that my father had given my mother for the birth of me. Sophia was my father's mother's name.

I toyed with that idea. Some of my papers had Yvonne on them, as I had always known it. Others had the name Sophia. Mrs. Bower said I had to make up my mind. It was one or the other. I was so fascinated with Sophia and a grandmother I never met. Sophia it was then and now

Mr. Morris' class

In S.F. we often switched teacher's every semester. To our unfortunate future, we had Mr. Morris. I could still see him; graying hair, glasses and a disciplinarian.

Mr. Morris told us that his own children were in bed by 7:30. We all gasped.

One of the members in class was Michael Perrini. I don't know how old he was, but he clearly had flunked a few grades. He was by far the tallest. Everyone was afraid of him. During the summer I had learned a few choice words. I did not know what they meant other than the fact I was not to use them.

Mr. Morris had given the task for us to collect dictionaries. Everything was fine until I got to Michael. He would not give his dictionary. I finally used the "F" word and he gave it to me. Mr. Morris heard the use of the "F" word. He dragged me down to the office. He left his class. I knew I was in trouble. The halls were louder than the ever were before. He dragged me by the arm to the office. He brought me to an old lady, who was the principal. He wrote down what I had said.

The punishment was that I was to take home a note to my parents and have it signed.

My mom did not know what it meant. I know my dad knew it was bad, I knew it was bad. Bottomline, nobody knew what it meant. My father signed it and I returned it. That was the punishment. It was memorable, though. I never would have remembered the teacher's name.

Soccer

Or is it football. I forgot that we were sponsored by the soccer team that played in San Francisco. Hakoah, it was. I, once again, has an open account at the snack bar. I got introduced to some American food like ham sandwich. It was quite different from what I was used to.

Why did I think about soccer. Well, I am watching the Finals of the women. My mother and I spend all day on the soccer field. Often, she would dress me up, as well as herself. So every Sunday we were out on the soccer field, as we knew it It didn't matter when the game was played, we spent all day.

I remember Max Boxer yelling "Taxi" when the ball was out for Hakoah. I remember the uniform with the star on it. I remember the goalie who had quite a foot. He was able to boot it from one end to the other. His name was George. Later on, Steve Negoeco would join the team, who would coach USF for a lifetime.

I did not know anything different. I liked the socializing. Remember, I was an only child.

Chance meeting

Well, not really. My dad played soccer with his club at he end of Golden Gate Park. I don't remember how we met them, but he was a former boxer, as could be well documented with his buff arms, driving s sharp 1958 Chevy.

His name was Hank and her name was Jenny. They had a son who had tunnel vision. They were talking about how to make it as an immigrant. They had just taken on a job in Los Banos. Their responsibility was to maintain a gun club, for the lack of a better word. She would feed them meals. It was for the first time I tasted meatloaf and fresh pomagranite from the tree.

They had puppies (Boston Terriers) and we took one home. God I thought it was ugly, but I was use to pets.

Ironically, my dad stopped. For the first time I was astounded that cotton came from a boll. My dad plucked some for me. I was amazed. I remember bringing it to school.

Girl Scouts

In the beginning of fifth grade there was a flyer for Girl Scouts. But too no avail, there was no such group where I lived. But I could join Campfire Girls. I didn't care one way or the other. I just wanted to belong. None of the students were from my school. Now that I think about it, they all attended private school. So I went to the first meeting. It was on Judah Street. I walked. I really liked the leader and she was interested in me. I told my story. After a few times, I was invited to dinner. They had a Jaguar. We went up and down the hills of San Francisco. It was at night. My parents felt safe because I was with adults. I was suppose to be impressed. I was not. I did like all the special attention I was getting. I never thought that not everybody would be treated that way. I do remember a backyard; which is unusual for S.F., and I remember a see-saw. I remembered liking their son and we would often ride that see-saw. I remember nothing about the girl. I don't even know her name. I did remember watching out the front window and watching the street cars go by. I was fascinated.

I can't remember what else we did, but I remember that ride. So that was part of my extra-curricular activity.

S.F. Giants

My dad religiously followed the San Francisco Giants. Not a sound was to be heard when he played from his portable radio. Alas, my dad got tickets for a double header between my fourth and fifth grade. I was so excited! We all loved baseball. We all loved the San Francisco Giants.

I don't remember why; some things I do forget the details, but, I got a shot that was to be an antibiotic. I just remembered getting a shot in my rump, sort of. The person who administered the shot, hit a muscle. I no longer could walk. Well, that was the excuse my dad needed not to take me. After all, it was a double-header and I probably would not have the patience to go through two games. My mother did not give any protest, as usual. My dad was relieved, and my mom was left with the guilt. So, Saturday I limped to the theater. My mom accompanied me to the theater. She gave me the money and did not attend herself. After all, it had been her life and she could not speak the language. Consequently, I saw many a movie that was inappropriate for my age group. To be truthful, there was no rating system at that time. My dad certainly didn't care. All the neighborhood kids went because it was such a bargain.

The Endless Summer

Joe put a lot of effort in what he did. He introduced me to new arts & crafts to make key chains. I found it fascinating and made them in every color combination. He also announced that we would get to go to the Giants baseball game. Wow. It was for the first time that I was introduced to board games; Monopoly especially fascinated me. winning was my goal. It kept us out of the heat. We played in the recreation room. I learned to play Scrabble. I really liked that. Joe was the constant in our life. We did not want to leave. We were the latch key kids.

Lunch consisted of walking down to Kirkham street, get our bologna sandwich, snowballs, and our RC Cola. This is where we also bought our baseball cards. I had 25 cents a day. I was careful to keep that quarter everyday. I even chewed the bubblegum.

I don't remember on my last post, but the shoe of choice were flip-flop, except we called them by a different name. They were cheap; less than a $1.00. Consequence for someone who had never been in the sun before was to get blisters on my feet. Yes, third degree. My family was apprehensive of the health services of the US. After all, they could be treated at home. I did not complain, but did take to note.

First Semester in Ms. Bowers class

I think the one thing I remembered the most was that Ms. Bower had hairy arms. Hair I had never seen before. But she was nice, so I guess all was forgiven. We received a standard issue pen from the school district. It was green and ribbed to insure we would grasp the pen properly. I don't know where I heard this, I guess a parental conversation, that my name was Sophia Yvonne Van Coevorden. I was so intrigued with the Sophia. Until then, I never knew I had another name. I had always been called either by my middle or nickname thereof.
I remember writing an essay and used my new found first name, Sophia, and used it on my paper.
The next day we get the paper back. My fourth grade teacher said I had to make up my mind; Sophia or Yvonne. She had no idea what an impact that would have on the rest of my life. I was so mesmerized with the name Sophia and the thought that their had been a grandmother out there who I never met was so exciting. I chose Sophia, and it stuck. Wow, something so little could be so monumental. It made me realize today that even the smallest thing could have an impact on any of my students.

Fourth Grade

Ugh, we had Mr. Morris the second semester in fourth grade. We all knew he was an ogre. I certainly did not want that kind of discipline. Mr. Morris did not take long to tell us that his children went to bed at 7:30 pm. We all thought it was horrible. Of course, we never knew their ages. Mr. Morris in my eyes was Mr. Scrooch. He wore glasses, with peppered hair. We could only endure and hope things would be different next year.
And then there was Michael Peroni. Rememberl, I was still learning the language. Michael Peroni was very tall. He flunked a few times. He would probably be place in Special ED. Michel Peroni one day hung around the fence to get the kickball. He taught me the "F" word. I did not know what it meant. It was repeated often. I scratched it in the top of the fence and Michael reassured me that I was spelling it correctly. A new found word.
One day, Mr. Morris asked that of all people I would pick up the dictionaries. I come to Michael's desk to pick it up and sure enough, he wouldn't give it to me. I ask him again with no result. So I decide to use my newly acquired vocabulary word,"F" on him to give the book. Off he goes to Mr. Morris to tell him used the "F" word. Mr. Morris would have nothing of it. I told him I am sorry. He took me by the ear, left the class unattended, and marched me to the office to Ms. Green.
She, too, was alarmed to hear what I had said. I still didn't know. She wrote a letter to my father and what I had said. It was a time that students took their letters honestly to their parents. My father had to explain to my mother what I had said. I'm not sure even he knew what I had said, especially since he did not cuss himself.
Since then, I kept my distance from Mr. Peroni. He disappeared just like he had entered the classroom. I was glad.

Fifth grade

A lot happened then. I finally got my first wooden shoes from Holland. I made sure I wore them for at least a day. They made a lot of noise on the marble floor. My class was on the second story.
I was fortunate enough to have Ms. Becerra, who drove an older Mercedes Benz to work. She was a sweetheart. How could she ever put up with me. She taught us Spanish, although not on the curriculum. I loved it. I always got in trouble because I had the last word in everything. I was naughty and found way to get out of it. Just don't show up. She would have a spelling Bee, which I won. We had to spell accommodation as the final word. We played musical instruments. I figured out how to play the zither and led the class. I loved it. I copied the article from the store-bought encyclopedia. The topic was sea amonities. Whatever. I won. Probably no one else put in their chance to win. The price...Get to lead the =school to the Pledge of Allegiance for a week. The flagpole was outside. To me, it was a big deal, at the time. I wouldn't be caught dead today.
I was in a quite advanced fifth grade. A few of us were sent to GATE classes sometime. Among others were Rita Hovakimimian, (my best frend, Irving Lee (who I had a crush on, and Stanley, whose father was a Captain in SFFD. It was a great year, especially compared to the year before.