. . I have taken "issues" with English teachers since well before high school, and very much so with Miss Weinstock in senior year high. I did not and will not yield. Editors? I don't give a shit about them, nor they about me.

Miss Weinstock, terror of Burbank High. had two example students, my almost girl friend Karen Lynn**, and myself. We were not in the same classes.

Miss Weinstock (Ms. had not been invented yet) told everyone how wonderful Karen Lynn was, who had never had a grade less than "A" (except in PE, she was very small). She compared her to "Andrew Grygus (emphasis hers), who is just as smart and could get grades just as good, but will not apply himself!"

Actually, I was applying myself vigorously to my studies, which just didn't happen to coincide with the studies assigned me by teachers.

By the last semester, Karen had already effectively graduated, been accepted into college, and sluffed off with a C average, just like mine.

Funny: after graduation, Karen admitted to hating Miss Weinstock's guts, whereas I, who had fought her constantly, thought she was pretty OK. I guess "As" can be expensive to the soul.

Added note: At graduation Karen was on the honors stage . . . . . . . . and so was I. Teachers asked each other, "What the Hell is he doing up there?" Well, it was the SAT. Karen had missed 1 question, I had missed 3***.

Actually I almost didn't graduate - well, not all that close. In my "Senior Psychology" class, taught by Mr Brukner, the PE coach, we were required to produce a Daily Diary of the class. Some hopeless nerd actually did that, and everyone else copied him. This was a severe violation of my ethical standards, I wouldn't copy, and I wouldn't do something so stupid. When the time came to turn it in, I presented nothing, and explained why. Mr Brukner flagged me as disobedient, disruptive, failed, and not to graduate.

I was called before Mr. Bedigan, the Principal, to explain myself. I did. He said, "Well, let us see". He pulled out my folder and opened it. It contained not even a moth. He said to me, "You mean you have gone all they way through high school and never been in any kind of trouble at all?" I told him, "Not that I recall". He closed the folder and said, "You're graduating".

** Karen and her family were staunch Mormons, and tried to convert me. Even though I still presumed I was a Christian in those days, I knew this could not possibly work. The angel Moron (oops, that's Moroni, he's Italian) and I were not going to get along. A few years ago I remembered her married name and looked her up on the Internet. She teaches early Mormon music at Brigham Young in Utah.

*** SAT tutoring did not exist yet in those days - we had to fly solo.

Social progress has been made.