R-E-S-P-E-C-T for ‘Fair Rittenhouse’

Remember, we’re talking Old Norristown here, which encompassed areas outside the borough limits as they had no secondary schools back then. Methacton? All farmers! Same with East and West Norriton. But today, I’m specifically talking about the block on Roberts Street between Pine and Juniper.

There were two junior high schools then — seventh through ninth grades; Stewart was for the West End kids, and Rittenhouse for pretty much the rest of us and the kids from outside of town who were bused in.

I went to “Fair Rittenhouse.” Remember our alma mater? It was sung to the tune of the national hymn by George William Warren, “God of Our Fathers.”

“Fair Rittenhouse in all her glory stands……..”.

We sang it standing at every week’s assembly after we pledged allegiance to the flag and sang “Our Country ‘tis of Thee.” We probably said a prayer, too.

There were lovely rose beds outside the front of Rittenhouse, and each variety of rose was labeled. No one, I’m talking no one, stepped onto one of those flower beds!  No one stepped on the grass. There were prices to be paid to do so, big time, called demerits.

Now I don’t know what happened to kids who got demerits — I was too goody-two-shoes to ever warrant those. But I knew you’d get sent to Dr. Taylor’s office if you didn’t “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” all the rules and regulations at Rittenhouse!

Now I read in the newspaper of disrespect going on in the schools at all levels, and not only by the students. And it scares the living daylights out of me! I had teachers at Rittenhouse like Vincent Farina, Thelma Richards, Ethel Shelly, Mildred Keyser, Mary Burkert, teachers whom I showed respect and who showed respect in return.

Nobody living in the borough took a bus to school. You could buy discounted bus tickets for the regular bus that were two for a quarter. We walked. There were no backpacks. We carried our books.

I played the violin and when it rained, juggling an umbrella with the violin and the books was a challenge. Daddy resolved it by giving me his oldest leather belt and showed me how to strap my books together and sling them over my shoulder using the same hand as I carried the umbrella. That’s the way it was.

Rittenhouse Pine Nursing Home now occupies the fields where we took gym classes and played intramural sports. The school proper was converted to apartments years ago. Yet for many, the memories of being teeny-boppers are still keen when we pass by.

Everyone reading this went through those tough years — but they were good years — a school where you could only buy healthy foods for lunch, and where you had your first crush on somebody.

Walking home from school down Powell Street, we’d stop at Goodie’s (near Brown Street) for an ice cream cone if we hadn’t spent all our meager lunch money. Mr. Good would ask us if we wanted “Jimmies” on them, and we’d get them, naturally, but tell him, “No, put ‘Joe’s; or ‘Pete’s’ on mine” – or whoever our “boyfriends” were on any given day.

Then we’d walk on down to Spillaine’s Five & Ten on the southeast corner of Fornance and Powell and wander around looking at everything they had, knowing we weren’t buying a thing.

We went to Roosevelt Field on Friday nights during football season to see the high school team. That’s what we did, there was nothing else to do!  Then we’d walk down Powell to Johnnie’s (at Wood Street) or Jule’s (at Spruce) for a cherry Coke made with fountain syrup — and hope to hook-up with the kid we had a crush on, of course.

Values haven’t changed. People change. Times change. Simple days at “Fair Rittenhouse” are but memories. Rittenhouse was my school; but yours was the same. There was, as Aretha Franklin aptly put it, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” for each other.

Neighborhoods were safe. Language was laughter and fun. Sounds too simple? Maybe it was. But it was good, that “Old Norristown.” It can be good again with  “just a little bit, a little respect, just a little bit”.

Ruthmarie Brooks Silver lives in Lower Providence Township, Montgomery County.